in this new town square,
where ivy plants grow
and jewellers sell wares,
old friends unite &
pet small dogs on leashes,
and settle into wooden benches
and the men gather to talk business,
their jargon made pleasant
by birds’ calls and slow cars
and smiles pushing past stoic stares
this is the city made anew,
not cause to rush, or
mania to buy, or
complaints about sharp price-lines
but cause to breathe,
to think and to be
to settle and exist
how long have I created
that mania in my mind!
how long have I insisted
on deadlines & punch-cards,
on criteria & standards!
is life not enough
just to breathe
and enjoy?