Shadows

 
There is magic in the air  
shadows on pavements,  
slaves to tilting roofs  
basking in the winter sun  
lengthen as sunlight falls.  
Near closing time  
shoppers spent and tired  
children weary of the day  
dragged home by parents  
remembering childhood days,  
mahogany counter tops  
their merchandice of sweets  
far out of reach  
buffeted by shopping bags  
and hostile knees,  
waiting in the bus queue,  
crashing gears and drafts  
conductor on the platform  
bells and buttons, wooden seats,  
now buses bow to you  
one low step all there is  
a pass to pay your ticket.  
Shadows stretch the empty street  
Cantonese and Balti  
now stand guard and beckon  
casting spice and oriental shadows  
where once the sunshine shone.