Rooftop poets explore the sky.
They see the city and then ask why.
They’re not afraid of the people below
or to tell their readers so.

Rooftop dancers trip near the edge.
Their limbs take them dangerously close to the ledge
but they fly away whenever they choose
as they enjoy all the views.

Rooftop singers are sirens and seers,
seducing with wisdom, at heights that appear
much greater than needed to see everything.
You stare while on rooftops, they sing.

Rooftop artists, they all entertain.
They tickle your fancy and limit your strain.
They take you to places that you couldn’t reach.
Such is the gospel I preach.