Anonymous

A landscape of beauty,
A monument to man,
His wise and practiced eye,
Surveys the land.

He judges the heights,
Of the grey concrete art,
He decides on the best route,
“Be still my beating heart”.

Let the crowds gather,
But this is a private affair,
He lifts his eyes to the skies,
And utters a prayer.

He closes his eyes,
A look of peace on his face,
And in his own imagination,
He feels entirely safe.

A moment of elation,
He feels as if flying,
He has no family or friends,
No-one is crying.

He feels like an angel,
As if heaven sent,
A smile breaks on his face,

As he breaks the pavement.