Breathes through
A broken lung,
Gray air slithering in like
A snaking, sneaking
Through the street gutters
And down into a seedy underbelly.
From above,
You can see overpasses sprawling
Like swollen organs—
Cracked pavement,
Wet cement,
Heavy traffic.
In the thick of things
Is where the real soul
Lies:
Children playing hide and seek in
Thickets of rain and mud,
Damp yellow teeth brightening
Ashen faces,
Light feet doggedly dancing.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Breathes through
A broken lung,
Gray air slithering in like
A snaking, sneaking
Through the street gutters
And down into a seedy underbelly.
From above,
You can see overpasses sprawling
Like swollen organs—
Cracked pavement,
Wet cement,
Heavy traffic.
In the thick of things
Is where the real soul
Lies:
Children playing hide and seek in
Thickets of rain and mud,
Damp yellow teeth brightening
Ashen faces,
Light feet doggedly dancing.
Not my best, but it reeks of home, so...
