A Pome a Day for a Year

It was always best at night,
when the lights of life hummed in the periphery
of the metro sound coating my ears.
When the buzz and beeps,
of the pushy populous,
crowded concrete oceans with revving
and anger.
When the independent feeling of adulthood,
surges through your body and mind,
and you stride on another mental level.

There are no more of these footsteps.
The time for this passed,
ideals shredded into sustenance
for growth learns via the seed of mistake
and they were made,
though sorely missed.

Those footsteps through a living feeling
from child to man,
it felt like progress,
despite maybe two steps back,
and Victoria Station still waits in case.