The street lights hold so many stories within,
That if you try to reach them, your pupils will burn,
From the extravagant lighting that the bulbs bring,
And from the horrors they have seen.
Midnight hour, strike a note on Big Ben,
Bring all the children inside, into bed,
But one party go-er is yet to be finished, her dress all astrew and her heart unconditioned,
The whisky bottle swings from her hands, that house a big jewel of decadent extravagance,
This diamond like pearl swivels in its socket, as Ana Jewel shrills a long sonnet,
"Oh where has my life gone, why must it end so? Where is my country that I once called home?"
She cries loud and gently on the cobblestone steps,
As Big Ben behind her ticks time away from her lonely form, which is as low as it gets.
Why does she ponder on her whiskey so?
Talking of miseries and stories never told?
She wanders at night, aimlessly and alone,
Seeking an answer that will bring hope,
But alas what is this? Is that a young man?
Her saviour, her capture, her amore she bets,
She smiles and a tear softens her cheek,
"You've come mon signour, would you like just one drink?"
The man with a hat, and a cool, wicked grin,
Tips down his hat and a sack he did bring.
Now Madam Ana of a Jewel so divine,
Has gone missing entirely, someone please solve the crime!