My heart aches with joy,
as the lines on my face compose a song.
My worn hands hold you
with a delicate grace
that can only restore
as your mouth trembles
and cries out,
reigniting the embers of my soul.
The moist air around us
breathes your breath
and beauty.
Drops of life
fall ..
beating
beating
beating
against me,
pounding sometimes,
racing
away from me,
until you are
your own.
I watch the rain fall
onto dark, slanted streets,
unlike the days of old
that were filled with blue, sunny skies
and snow-glistened sidewalks
I heard her scream last night.
Her cries echoed against the mighty cranes
that stood watch under the moonlit sky.
Their eyes follow me
as I walk by, no cash in hand,
so I say,
but I don’t say.
I just keep walking,
hoping their image will go away
as I focus on my destination.
They are the writing on the walls,
paintings on the sidewalks,
seeping into the pavement cracks,
but they come to life when you look at them.
This is the place to be,
don’t you know?
They travel here to see the Great Lions,
but they are animals,
just like those
who have put them here.
The darkness looms over us
and traps us with its gnarled hands.
Somehow
the cold concrete soothes her scarred and burning face.
It is a place she calls home
for now.
