Carlton kept in darkness slept, The streetlights out, the roadside swept With rain that afternoon and feet Bewildered by the night. The city never sleeps, they say, And anxious souls in search of day Pit-pattered while inside the homes Smart-phones took place of light. Commerce halted, leisure paused, Proprietors despised the cause, While some found hope across the street Where power caught their sight. Not quite as thick as Egypt’s, though A danker hue than cities know, The darkness over Lygon Street Unsettled with its bite. Yet refuge lay where light still shone, And in the end, it came back on Across the street, and Carlton spun Back into groove, aright. The sounds of muffled life returned And in the sky the streetlights burned, Declaring never would the day Depart, nor win the fight.
The Consolations of Writing 