Tuesday, November 22, 2005

After being shown a glimpse of a real life
he is being pushed back to his old, unreal one.

A blinding flash,
One hurried handshake
and a unsure pat on the back later
they send him home
The trains welcome him back
as if he'd never left
Other men elbow him
and women love him with their dark eyes
like any other day.

And he feels one with the city again.
But alas!
Peace must still be made with the sea
Without which, the blighted city , is but a slum.

So ,they shake hands
His turn paper...

2 Comments:

Blogger Eastmancolour said...

I've almost started to absorb this stuff !
ALMOST !

so please elaborate some more oh poetess of yore ! :D (what's yore?)

you write real good

Thursday, November 24, 2005 4:47:00 AM  
Blogger Eastmancolour said...

danke gideon !

Monday, November 28, 2005 8:09:00 AM  

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