Poem #8

The sidewalk shrinks in both the slum and the skyscraper.
Its muddled with hustled love, fast result and rough death.
It gives the streets a misty desolation that drifts through the avenues.
Dusty corners shelter a faceless cigarette and torn shoes.
My heart melts for the dusk of day. The night races and pitches to day’s dawn.
My wondering mind sees and sighing is all I do while waiting for the light to change.

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About ingridfalconi

I'm a married mother of three and a published author.
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