Emeralds twinkling with evening diamonds,
Twilight planes flying through cotton ball clouds,
Wending weary workers traveling home,
A sole spectator sun-hatted watches.
The roar of rolling roads, a siren sound,
Like ants they crawl through streets to empty town.
The smell of smoke o’er charcoal lit fences
Tips of skyscrapers blazing through late smog.
The city is stretching while joggers run,
Baseball boys carry their bats from the park,
The dusk is creeping neath the western sun,
The sole spectator sighs, be-hats, recalls.
Sleepy children with books curl on the floor
It’s the end of the day in my City.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017