Stern men line a path, to Doors with plaques stating former occupants: Chopin, Churchill, Napoleon III.
Overhead flags hang early evening shadows From ornate golden arms Across the first of nine or ten marble steps.
And up them walk folk with schmoozing faces From cars with private drivers And windows tinted black.
White limestone porticos are Split by solid black adorned with gold, And expensive gowns inΒ violent colour.
And I notice the eyes Fixed on my passing As I slip into familiar grey.
St James' Place / King's Street, London, July 2018
As part of 'View from...', a collection of observational poetic experiments, whereby I allow myself five minutes to finish a poem regarding my surroundings at that time.