In a plastic cup of coffee
She stirs her broken dreams
Her prettiness half hidden
Half smiles not what they seem.
In a cafe now on wasteground
Near rail tracks which lead nowhere
In a town thats slowly dying
Runs fingers through her hair.
The tables of chipped formica
Uneven chairs grained in dirt
The prices they are low
A sense of lingering dispair.
The owners white jacket is stained
The coffee machine gasps for air
The carpet sticks to your feet
The assistant stares afar.
The traffic rumbles by
Single glass shakes its frame
The blinking ceiling light
No one is to blame.
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Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: December 15th, 2024 12:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Cheeky Missy, TobaniNataiella, Ellen Marsell
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Comments3
This poem paints such a vivid picture that I could not help but Fav it. It speaks to me as any good art does. So much word art in one piece, masterful
thank you so much, you are very kind
Reality is forever in our faces, yet we rarely look it straight in the face because it is so macabre and so ghastly. How very beautifully you've rendered this with superb imagery and aptly haunting, biting poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
much appreciated thank you
This is a beautiful but very haunting piece, depicting i feel the despair of a person left on the wayside of life living in a place left on the way side of life. Brilliant read.
you are very kind thank you for those words
You are very welcome
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