Cities Past Dreams

That one day, when the city has fallen

asleep and dim housing lights, sullen,

are outshined by the stars,

we will turn our ears past the violence that mars

the fluorescent tulips in my turbulent backyard.

Wheels that spin forward

under the shadow of lurking skyscrapers behind

a choleric sun, inconsistently halt and grind.

 

After erroneous decisions we will then seek

the rhythm of our desires, no longer meek

but pulsing – a thumping singular to only our ears

And in the shards of windows, the years

ahead gleam like clean walkways

where shine the moon’s rays,

cloaking cities of clamor with drowsiness,

ahead will come the sleep of gods and goddesses.

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