Melancholy Morning
Night succumbs like a powerless pawn
Melancholy grins the brink of dawn
Hollow skull enshrouds a vacant tomb
A Possum’s fate amid vulture’s plume
The sirens scream as if they’re aghast
And the garbage steel goes rumbling past
Power line wire grips a well-worn shoe
Pot holes tease the dark avenue
Flowers lay dying near a broken hoe
Smirking weeds laughed long ago
My dust consumes a captured steed
Of dirty hues and unknown breed
Someone’s eyes too tired to fight
Right of yellow, left of white
Copyright © Rhoda Tripp | Year Posted 2018
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