Crayons and City Buses
Some were peeling
others chipped and cracked
some sat tall and semi-pristine
others were beautifully bent and black
one even wore the colors of another
all were silent as ice mountain monks.
There were a few empty seats
(monuments to the lost?)
where do the discarded and forgotten go?
where do waxen souls leave their mark...
An old box of crayons is much like a city bus.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2016
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