I walked past that road
many many many moons ago
I had seen the misspelt road sign
the potholes and divots in gravels and sand
and spied a northern lights display of ethereal colours
I stopped a while to behold the magic and read the flaying sway
the nature of all things along the road to a city I could not call home

I hear stories of  El Dorado
of glitter and gold and birds of paradise
and horn blowing maidens serving azzurri wines
of lush hanging gardens crested brim-full with honey dew
in lanes of past and future nostalgia in gang signs and prayers
and livened whispers blow dusty winds as midnight secrets roam
as orphans search states for State to belong is to sing for your supper

I walked past that road
those merry moons and silent nights ago
I did not see the naked city or hear melodies of warm noon's
travellers talk stories and myths that holds no ties or memories
beggars toss coins and prance gambit in pools of fools and knaves
in daily pilgrimage they parade the sewers to dish their ills and dirt
even in hindsight they lack foresight and in foresight they have no see