Home   Home


by Vikki Owens

this hand,
this fist,
this concrete mess
of highways twist,
towards endlessness..
i see a window where
business sits
and punches timeclock
my car in transit whispers
with lonliness
until urban sprawl settles in
to idleness,
and with all the glasswork buildings
its your door i miss.


Posted on 03/12/2011
Copyright © 2024 Vikki Owens

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 03/12/11 at 08:09 PM

...vicki, what a nice traipse down a lane i hadn't seen before; nice slow walk thru your garden o' the panorama of life, love, longing; concepts spaced wonderfully apart yet so connected: we build concrete/metal stuff, yet we need a belongingness. and reciprecation, eh? a well-written pome.

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)