Cable

Cables coil like serpents in the night,
Their copper hearts humming low, a steady light,
From street‑side ducts to homes they softly glide,
Carrying whispers, songs, where thoughts reside.

In lofts and attics they lie, unseen,
A fibre network, calm and keen,
Binding voices, data, dreams in one—
A silent thread beneath the sun.

When storms may rage and power wanes,
They steadfast hold, they bear the strains,
Through rain and frost, through urban sprawl,
The humble cable answers the call.

So praise the cord, the wire, the line—
In Britain’s towns, its pulse aligns,
A modest marvel, plain yet true,
That links our world, both old and new.