A cry for help

The sounds of a town

The endless hitting of shoes on the pavement.
The endless chatter, some joyous, some not.
Security alarms blare from stores from time to time.
Music plays from people in the street,
Music plays from open shop windows,
Music plays from live cafe performers.
The cars try to drown out this sound, with their engines and horns.
The train horn bellows as it rattles along the track.
The birds chirp and seagulls call.
If you listen closely, I lighter clicks and a young girl inhales.
When the rain pours down it dilutes all other sound.
From where I sleep the waves hit the sea.
Along the coast sits a park, a small glee filled island of adventure.
Construction is unavoidable, no building content with its size or look.
Clean water hits the ground from the fountains and attractions.
A man calls from his box that the lord is with us all.
He calls louder to defeat the man advertising something else, an unspoken competition breaking out between the two.
She desperately sucks at her straw hoping to get more out of her empty drink.
Though you may miss it if you don't look for it, the hum of electricity is evident in all towns.
A group of people stumble past, shouting and singing and laughing, a celebration it would seem.
I like to see horses trot past, the sounds of there hooves echoing across the many walls of the many buildings.
There's a siren in the distance, someone is in trouble.
A helicopter flies low, following the sirens drawing near.
The traffic lights beep to allow pedestrians to continue their journey.
Dogs bark from all corners of my vision.
I chuck a coin into the can a poor young man holds out, hearing the clink of metal on metal.
I move to the side as I hear a cyclist Bell ding behind me.
The occasional tap of a walking stick informs me of a slow walker in the area.
The subtle sound of a ball rolling on the ground to let people know the sticks owner can not see.
Two people scream at one another, their argument becoming incomprehensible as it goes on. And on.
Insults thrown between strangers, normally one of whom is intoxicated.
And my soundscape ends with the gentle sound of wheels on the ground, a holiday.
Why one would holiday in a noisy place such as my hometown, I'll never know.