Greying Streets

Greying Streets short poem

Photo by Luis LuCheng

Greying streets whisper
cold dust, a different time
Their utterance echoes,carves
on my glass mind.
They hush a hymn
so soft, it dangles
like innocence,
from an old child.
I, an antique vase
made to their design.

Greying streets whisper,
seasons of another child.
Incumbent, she strays
like a fishing line.
Crushing confusion
of my dithering mind.
She escapes like a poem,
lacing my lungs
with intricately sewn thoughts
breaking the bonds of time.

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Ailam K

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Vegetarian,I come across as a very interesting person. 
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