My Street.

I love sitting in my favourite place of all
A lovely cafe bar called Level
Even though I possess no fame
Everyone here knows my name
 I can sit and watch the world go by
And the dark rain clouds in the sky
Here I can escape the words of May and Trump
And laugh when cars go too fast over a speed bump
I really do love that sound
Of their bumpers scraping on the ground
That will teach you not to be a twit
And one day observe the speed limit
I get to see all kinds of humanity
Dancing through their lifes crazy parody
From beggars with their little tin mugs
Coniving cash with which to purchase drugs
Young mums with no time for fun
Dashing hither and thither on the school run
Cosmopolitan scholars taking in their new surroundings
As from bar to bar they go a wandering
Locals with their bags of shopping
Dodge the students bar hopping
Little old ladies with their little old men
Talking about " Way back when"
Struggling with their mobile phones
Whilst plodding back to their homes
None notice this casual observer
Watching all their random behaviour
None of this can make me frown or bleat
Because I actually quite like this diverse street.