With an extended hand,
I reach for the the drizzle
I can't see.
It falls and searches
all of the city,
and its busy musings
below.
To hear the echoes
of its stress and fumes and clocks
is quite enough, from this balcony.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 2:58 PM UTC
With an extended hand,
I reach for the the drizzle
I can't see.
It falls and searches
all of the city,
and its busy musings
below.
To hear the echoes
of its stress and fumes and clocks
is quite enough, from this balcony.
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