The City

Ink lings

Brazen horns protest each others presence
Steam rises from beneath the tarnished streets
Taxi’s tease with flags that say “off duty”
And in the shadows, grifters ply their trade

A cacophony of  smells assault the senses
Windows dressed, compete to catch the eye
Breezes brush against you with a stale breath
Ribbons of  cracked sidewalks meet your tread

Isolation in a sea of people
Buildings clinging tightly side by side
Sirens scream the news of unknown victims
The city owns your soul, it lives inside
 

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About oldmainer

I am retired and live in southern Maine with my wife and two dogs. I started Oldmainer .wordpress.com as an outlet for my occasional opinions and random observations, with some poetry thrown in. I welcome anyone that wants to kick back and join me here on the porch, exploring all the gifts we have been given and the memories collected. Thanks for stopping by.
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