finds peace in the palm of his hands
fixated on what they might hold
what they once held.
A young passerby kicks an empty coffee cup
the visionary smiles
sees beauty in its movement
it has been given wings.
He wraps himself in borrowed warmth
of street lamps casting shadows upon the boulevard
watches rain from beneath the bridge
imagines a flood, no one drowning, only swimming…
An entire city looks away in vulgar unison
bells toll from a church a block away
neon red vacancy signs sear harsh reality
into his eyelids.
He sleeps, he has been given wings.
~from ELEMENTS & ANGELS
Apryl Skies ©
2012
