Seems Like Yesterday
This morning, like any other
in this town, sun never fully rises.
Clouds spread out in the sky unevenly
like butter on untoasted bread.
In haze, town wakes up slowly,
rub its eyes, then blink hard three times
—in its irises light sporadic lights.
A sign of life, fresh day—
for its tiny people, at least.
Town has no use for tomorrow.
Even awake it’s quiet, the wind
carries hushed whispers around.
Would you like some milk with that?
Not for secrecy.
Town has no use for secrecy,
but silence keeps the town balanced.
On every red roof there’s a
red chimney, but no smoke
—gray offends blue as sorrow offends love.
No cars—people walk earthen roads
to other people, slow.
Town has no use for efficiency.
They stroll through carpets of primroses,
tall grass tickles their calves.
They lie down, and between greens
you can barely see, their bare skin.
No beauty is pursued here.
Town has no use for beauty.
Gently, the night visits again,
and people crawl into warm dreams
—a world beyond theirs, maybe.
Lights off in the town’s eyes
for the night, but no one minds.
Mists sneak through windows in disguise,
reach into minds through breaths.
Inhale, erase.
Exhale, reset.
The sun never fully sets, or rises—
Town has no use for tomorrow,
hence in town, it never will be tomorrow.
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.
