Highrise Dreams Poem by jean maudit

“The balcony never lets me down.
London floods in light below and stars
flock onto my hands.
Born on the banks of the old docks,
the Ark floated by on the milk
of my mother's lullaby, beautiful as Dido's lament.
Cranes hung cargo like plums
over the poor houses
and we'd run behind the horses for manure.
Hark at me!
I remember St. Paul's like a light bulb
them bombs couldn't put out,
and mother often comes to me
like a moth and like a bee
I visit the faces of old friends.
It's funny the way memories seem like dreams.
Or is it the other way round? ”
I know what she means.
The lifts in my life are broken too.