Seward
By Invisible Poet •
This town can be a haven, or a hell
it can be an eternity of time
a traditonal place, still ringing the noon bell
Cars running down the streets covering them with grime
Tourists by the boat-load
clogging our cities streets
but it is these peoples green gold
that cause us, with smiles to greet
we are a money hungry town
our youths set free to roam
none of us wish to be awarded crown
we just want you to leave our home