Brexit in Soho

The trigger pulled-

A voice rings out-

The rallying cry-

“No turning back”

 But no-one hears in Soho.


No anger here-

A  man sleeps soundly-

On a bench supplied

By Westminster Council-

 In Soho.


Miss  Dearie sings— “Oh ‘deed I do”

And Ronnie welcomes strangers in.


In Soho where the days are long-

Unhindered from the heavy gong—of rule—divide—and masquerade.

Where wine is warm—and cheese grows soft-

And basil smells—of forget-me-not-

Where  drums sound  out a beat of peace-

New languages—to learn—to meet-

 In Soho.