Power

Power wears a quiet colour, like the mist over the moor,
It settles in the hush of dawn, a strength that softly pours.
Not in the thunder of the engine’s roar or neon’s flash,
But in the steadfast hand that lifts a neighbour’s load.
It hums beneath the London Underground, a pulse beneath the streets,
And lives in the resolve that steadies a nation’s heartbeat.