cold dawn the stream that struggles to be the sea
Tag: fantasy
the tender burn of tongue as the flatbread melts and spices erupt from the curry
empty shells marching into oblivion this cold morning
this morning’s darkness heavy on the eyes
glow of digital screens reveals the man in the wheelchair twitching as he wakes from programmed sleep
bodies scattered some dream and others stare at the concrete
the pigeon pacing back and forth between legs and butterflies in the gut
a pair of mynahs looking at the sky and cursing aloud
sneaking up on the old ginger cat mynahs find joy
cold dawn sleep finds us beyond the thick sea fog
