Life has its charms

Not always bright with neon flair

pretty in pastel poets reluctant to stare

Beyond the fair ground where shadow lurks

down and out amongst the jerks

Life though it harms makes its stamp

a song for a smoke - this poet a tramp

See his eyes flicker the human fight

Ballads of everyman's prosaic plight

No purple hills, no rosy dawns, no sparkling seas

But in the urban smog - life  a concrete elegy.