Parking Space
Traffic jams
define the divine
and the mundane.
Their long peak
hours mix the sacred
and the profane.
And with grateful awe, we see as a miracle,
as a beatific vision and spectacle,
the slightest hint
there is, the elusive
faintest trace
of this city's
rarest gem: a vacant
parking space!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
