I walk the busy streets isolated from the hustle,
Crisp wind lifts tendrils of my waves to the textured sky,
The roar is silent in my ears -
I've walled myself from the world,
Walking to my own beat.
Forever flat, I could never stop
and never tire
As my thoughts roam beyond these crowded streets.
I remember smells that exist no longer:
Cities smell only of concrete and pollution.
Childhood smells of wet air,
The tangy sweet-sour of decaying plants;
Sounds of burbling water and crunchy leaves,
Softly shifting branches in the breeze;
Tastes of smoke and evergreens;
And feels of cold stiff cloth against my skin.
I walk nostalgic paths longing for things I've left
and will never find in the noisy traffic
of the long city streets.
2009
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 6:31 PM UTC
I walk the busy streets isolated from the hustle,
Crisp wind lifts tendrils of my waves to the textured sky,
The roar is silent in my ears -
I've walled myself from the world,
Walking to my own beat.
Forever flat, I could never stop
and never tire
As my thoughts roam beyond these crowded streets.
I remember smells that exist no longer:
Cities smell only of concrete and pollution.
Childhood smells of wet air,
The tangy sweet-sour of decaying plants;
Sounds of burbling water and crunchy leaves,
Softly shifting branches in the breeze;
Tastes of smoke and evergreens;
And feels of cold stiff cloth against my skin.
I walk nostalgic paths longing for things I've left
and will never find in the noisy traffic
of the long city streets.
2009