The Flight of Angels
Christmas angels soar above the High Street sparkling and twinkling
Crowds hurry in the twilight huddled against the chill of a winter’s night
The city traffic is gridlocked; horns honk angrily as the masses scurry along
Side-stepping theatre-goers, shoppers, diners, drinkers, party-goers, city types
Carried along in a sea of people determined; destinations logged; autopilot on
Phone screens blinking, directing and connecting as they navigate their way
Through life in London at breakneck speed, the conveyor belt of life revolving
Faster and faster as each year passes, contrasting vividly with years gone by
The horse-and-cart pace of life of yesteryear, dark and dingy alleyways
Now beautifully adorned with trumpeting angels, golden stars and holly
The flight of angels overhead will watch and listen. Silently. As time goes by
And the Christmas shoppers and party-goers will be spent and jolly
Until the angels flutter away and the masses go about their daily lives
Seasons will come and seasons will go and all the while angels will watch
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