Outside I glide across the ugly concrete floor
The patterns may change
But pretty much the same is in store
Uneven and Unfiltered
Filled with leaves, chewing gum and cigarette stumps
Some of it is dipped and filled with puddles
Cracks and empty water bottles
Some have grids, discarded bin lids
Stones that will scratch the legs of fallen kids
Branches, plastic spoons and twigs
Sometimes it's wet
Sometimes it's dry
Sometimes there's cardboard and dog shit
Feet all trollop on it in a similar path
People stand on it too and laugh
Cars sit on it also
Some old and dirty
Some clean and looking brand new
I don't wanna rhyme no more about the floor
I'll leave it here before it becomes a bore
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: August 22nd, 2022 03:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
so true dear Poet
(a morally bankrupt modernity
with no sense of community
equates, to a stare-off - war
for every chore
'not my problem' proclaimed loud
till the mice are welcomed back, in droves
then its all riots at dawn...
yet again!)
Yes exactly, the World is lost or the majority of it anyway.
I once lived on that street, I think (or one very close by). Not sure the memory is welcome, but is worth putting out there anyway.
Thanks for reading, oh dear.
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