Crossfire
It began as a lovely September, 2001, at least, it should have been.....
somewhere lost in the crossfire, between summer and fall
days growing short, and evenings long
But, things now warped into a sense of surreal. What was seen, could not be real
As if bifocals were mixed in a bin, out of focus, rim to rim
I've asked to borrow a broken pencil, I find paper blowing in the acrid wind
my fingers shake with tensile fear....and, I write a goodbye.. I don't know why......
An edifice of a city, shades of gray, smoke, and ash,
stony faces, and rubble, of ruin and glass
littered streets, silent people, crying people in shock
A playbill, lost and frayed, blowing into my face
It began as a lovely September, 200l, or it should have been.....
Sirens, shattered concrete, sidewalks, shepherding the living into
the arms of someone, or maybe, .... into the arms of no one
Someone is borrowing a cell phone, ... there is smell of burnt sulfer
Bridges, crosswalks, that will take them back into calamity, .. our new reality
Someone lends me a broken pencil, I find paper blowing in the acrid wind
I write a goodbye... I don't know why......
It began as a lovely September, 2001, or it should have been....
_____________________
10/3/14
For The Challenge "Chopped"
Sponsored By Craig Cornish
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