Echoing sounds

 

Echoing sounds of Merseybeat.

Fab four songs play on repeat.

We took a peek,

a glance through the looking glass,

into days of time gone past.

We heard the songs,

George, Paul, Ringo and John

drifting along cobblestones streets.

Heard them in the air at every corner we meet.

 

We took in sights,

the city shrouded like a deep mist.

Once inside we felt light,

a buzz to exist.

The folklore and myths.

Down every street,

a heartbeat, a pulse,

we drank it all down in large gulps,

consumed the stories.

Graveyards built from disused quarries,

majestic buildings breaching the sky,

gothic cathedral looming high

 

Low sun glints from glass shells,

water ripples twinkle with lights mystical spells.

We took a walk by dockside

through cemeteries where the dead hide.

Centuries-old souls of the departed.

We saw old and new as the evening started.

Haggard and worn, battered and bruised.

Walked with shiny, glam, sparkling suits.

Energy and passion,

the nights vibrations like waves crashing,

through glass and concrete,

red brick cobble stone street.

To the sound of Merseybeat.

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle