Our coach slowly enters the city with a rugged coastline on our right, from high atop the southern range, it displays a vista of remarkable refracted light. The contour of a colourful rainbow arching over the city below, inviting us as we descend into its valley. Rain showers are now clearing and with the bright sunlight now behind us, it glisten off the granite buildings, with it's inherent quartz, to create an unimaginable grand diamond of immense proportions.
The cobble stones give a uniformity of structure to the streets. Sedate horses pulling their laden carts, tap their iron shoes on the raised stones like a dancer on the stage. The leather reins are held gently by their owners, deftly guiding their charges, some drivers walk alongside, others sitting aloft,
Busily they go about their business, adding to the cacophony of sounds that enrich any centre of commerce. Grand buildings align the main thoroughfares as bankers and merchants get embroiled in the affairs of the wealthy.
Parallel rails dissect the street as a tramcar noisily approaches. With its many passengers waiting to alight and proceed with their individual tasks at hand.. Many Clydesdale horses stand majestically by the side of the road as their owners do business inside. Their equine heads supporting a nosebag part filled with chaff, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around them.
A gentleman slowly pushing his own cart, stops at each lamppost and with his trusty ladder, checks each glass cabinet that contains a gas mantle within. As he replaces the waxy textured mantle he displays all the tenderness of a child holding a butterfly before its maiden flight.
The discovery of many long lost photographs, capture a period of time in our rich history that for many of us, still holds a special place in our imagination.
).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=poet777302&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/poet777302-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'Virginia Ann Gray passed on no joke');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Her death was real. It was a big deal. https://www.legacy.com/us/obituarie<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1349901&displaypoem=t&sitename=poet777302&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'poet777302');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2024-04-08')){kind=small}
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