Another Sunday
Sunday
Long is Sunday, empty streets
a tunnel of silence,
damp pavement, water trickles
into gutters.
Burnt matches, *** butts and
yesterday leave form a rust
brown dike, it bursts and floods
tiny pebbles-
flowers on the window sills
admire sift rain on glass.
A life spent in a pot fear
no weed and see no evil.
A black cat decides not to
cross the road,
a child in yellows wellies
dreams of tomorrow.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment