Night. Poem by R. C. Welford

A strange silence fills the streets at night,

Of muffled stalls and lack of light.


The market no longer bustles to sell,

It's goods and wares before darkness dwells.


The arcade shuttered lacks in life,

Which haunts it sweetly when night is rife.


Now gone is the throng of children, shoppers,

The streets now clear of beggars and buskers.


Although one man still lies, asleep in a doorway,

His form softly shrouded from the echoes of day.