When the hum of the city

Photo©Robert Natkay


When the hum of the city enfolds me,

And the shrill, broken laughter pierces

The rumbling yellow-lit doorways,

I wish I were miles away.

When I hear a voice cracked and splintered

Breaking a tune in pieces

And wringing its blood on the doorstep,

I wish I were miles from here.

The light never fades in the city,

The shadows too shallow to hide

The ruins of soft living and dying,

And I wish that the windows were blind.

When the streetlights hang veils in the night sky,

Like hellish moons daubing the dark,

I wish for a falling star’s magic,

A white owl, I’d spread wings and fly.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

9 thoughts on “When the hum of the city”

      1. (Except for the creepy devil real estate agents and the crazy psychos in horror films who hide out in the houses in the middle of nowhere.) 😉

  1. Great transportation to the city piece.
    “And I wish that the windows were blind.” wonderful line. Growing up in the country it was amazing to wake up to “complete” silence. I would say something to to check my hearing, confirming I hadn’t gone deaf during the night.

    1. Whenever we stay in the country I find myself lying awake and listening to nothing at all, and not being able to go back to sleep until the fridge bursts into life and it sounds deafening, but comforting 🙂

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