The Patched Road Of Old Asphalt Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The patched road of old asphalt
Melting
Of smells more intoxicating, more
Than of formalin the asphalt stinking:
There’s the glare
The sun of haziness
Beginner of propensity to afternoon’s
Pregnant laziness:
Where chance and probability reign
And
Grudge the coming of the red dusk’s
Reign:
Whilst the night crouches slow in birth-pain
Comforted by the doctor-stars he
Lights.
Ah! tit for tat: said the small child
And I could see her round big blue eyes
Shine with a tear in that throbbing night