Streets collect
all the
secrets.
Deep ones,
down inside with desires.
Unknown to most,
what
is Their
Territory, Land
and now
concrete padded waters.
Passer-Byers
interested in empty
Space.
A place
from long ago.
Chatter gone,
the language unknown ...
Now.
At this time
when knowledge
appears
Abundant.
Where did Color go?
The ones with painted faces.
Beauty found of past doings.
Joy
fills the heart ...
wanting, revealing.
Child dreams with
simple figures
embellished
in
imagination.
Sound now hush,
laughter becomes murmurs.
Babies Sleep.
Where?
I cannot See,
what was
before
me.
Music, voices, drums
once howled ....
dissipated into silence.
No one
listening
the story
unfolds
in
solitude.
What "was"
deserves ACKNOWLEDGEMENT!
Opportunity
feels good.
Believing,
even momentarily
All
connected.
Past hours brag
among the Wind's whispers,
“Fleeting moments
precious
they measure
True bliss.”
Displays vanished
right before your eyes!
No trace ....
Gone - still.
Remains
dole out the secrets kept below
of
memories
guarded.
Spoken sporadically behind doors
closed.
Protected space?
Embrace - needing,
wanting
Honor.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Bella Baba Perogies and writers in Poets and other communities.
Trouble at the Tea Leafing Café
The rain had started right around the time that Annie was buttering her second thick slice of homemade toast for breakfast, and hadn’t paused since. Not that anyone could tell. The windows of the café were fogged over, and with every seat filled with happy customers munching on fresh baked pastries or steaming bowls of the delicious soup of the day, it was hardly surprising. Annie looked around the room, finally taking a moment to breathe after the lunch time rush. Her old life already felt like a bad memory, a part of her history, always, but just that. History.
By Hannah Moore6 days ago in Fiction
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