quinta-feira, 17 de abril de 2025

The shelter you seek

 You see my shadow by the bridge
Signs of my presence
The day tells you to procede
make it to the cold shelter before dusk

You see the last tag I left
A scribbled brag bereft
A piece of clothing abandoned
Next to the column

You see my dirty hand prints 
along the bridge rail
signs of me give you hope
But I am just a ghost

Mist dissipates the late afternoon leaves the world
The bridge enjoys one last ray of sunlight
shining on the spot we once met
now just a trash shelf for derelicts

my name is whispered in the waves below
echoing up to the hobos and vagabonds
as they make for the cold shelter
before true nightfall

Look up to the top of the support post
a seagull's longing cry
It's beak is me it's wings are mine
exposed as day mist dies off

The city's scarcity and abundance
it's life and death
light and dark
I surviving in the contrast

invisible to your eyes
leaning on the pedestrian rail of the bridge
emerging and disappearing until I'm full form
trespassing into the realm of the living

Observing the stragglers as they head for cold shelter
Among them I cannot be counted
I am not there in person only vestiges of me
can be picked up in vague apparition 






 

Nenhum comentário:

Postar um comentário