Post Office:
Telegrams and Telephones
Tell me how the snow is where you are.
Traffic cones outside, must-be-done road works completed by no one nowhere men,
patched up walls clad in grit painted cream
shutters the same, shutting out the screams.
Graffiti bridges, restaurants on ridges-
river's rising fast, finish your entrée
let's leave.
Walk linking arms looking upon
glimpses of brick, of an old home,
lived in years ago by someone unknown.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
Post Office:
Telegrams and Telephones
Tell me how the snow is where you are.
Traffic cones outside, must-be-done road works completed by no one nowhere men,
patched up walls clad in grit painted cream
shutters the same, shutting out the screams.
Graffiti bridges, restaurants on ridges-
river's rising fast, finish your entrée
let's leave.
Walk linking arms looking upon
glimpses of brick, of an old home,
lived in years ago by someone unknown.
facebook.com/coffeeshoppoems >>> for poetry to your facebook feed
