Dry Empty Street
A season for the homes dire
Crooked are the places sure
The dry empty street about
All the hard parts shown
The fabric of the aisle-way
Corroded by the ripe plants
Flowers expressed to their hilt
Obscure is the path
Where perfection isn’t primary
The lights beckon to bring in
The horrid pieces of life
No house asunder
Russell Sivey
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2012
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