The rain crystallizes,
Collecting fragments of neon lights,
Like shards of beach glass,
Hoarded onto the windows,
London,
" the city that never sleeps ",
Poor thing,
Kept awake by the incessant sounds of its thousands of inhabitants,
Half-dipped in Latte froth,
And skinny soy mochas,
Ode to a vacant city,
Too exhausted,
Can you hear the Void calling?