Cobblestones

By day, I am many things,

Overcrowded molars,

chewing rubber gum.

Grand piano keys

washboard melodies

Drum-drumming fingers,

to savour nights' crumb

I yearn for the spark of a clog

Or the nudge of a log,

dropped from a high-stacked waggon.

I crave the squeal of a steel rimmed wheel

passing the 'George and Dragon.'

At night I dream

of bustling streets

when my repertoire was full

of sounds without insulation.

Naked sounds

raw sounds 

smash on the floor sounds

felt in close proximity.

Road works offer some relief

when I'm teased out with giant tooth picks

or flossed with high pressure hoses.

It’s only then that I can truly breathe,

and sense

and listen..........