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mark-mcintoshPoems
dawn turns a bridge orange puffs of grey dot the morning sleep heads turn, birdsong awakens narrow streets of idle cars skyscrapers come into focus after a silhouette horizon of blocks projected with limelight onto an empty stage. later, clouds turned white the tips of buildings glow against blue an early flock dips & swoops morning currents brush a face that catches this ephemeral record the eye of a camera records only memory in the final scene bacon sizzles eggs turn into pillows a coffee aroma guides the cook scraping toast with butter the plates layed out cutlery percussion a page turns towards yesterday's news the neighbour's cough another alarm
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
Awakenings
dawn turns a bridge orange puffs of grey dot the morning sleep heads turn, birdsong awakens narrow streets of idle cars skyscrapers come into focus after a silhouette horizon of blocks projected with limelight onto an empty stage. later, clouds turned white the tips of buildings glow against blue an early flock dips & swoops morning currents brush a face that catches this ephemeral record the eye of a camera records only memory in the final scene bacon sizzles eggs turn into pillows a coffee aroma guides the cook scraping toast with butter the plates layed out cutlery percussion a page turns towards yesterday's news the neighbour's cough another alarm
Written by
mark-mcintosh
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
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