Head on the pillow,
looking out the window,
seeing the high rises,
gazing at the city lights,
from the rising of the sun,
to the setting of the sun .
In between-
as seconds ticks by,
Every minute reveals
a different truth,
Every hour tells
a different story.
The intensity of the sun,
the diversity of its scorch,
the look on peoples faces,
the spring in their steps.
Each day, a new story,
not always with a happy ending,
but always a different story.
No comments:
Post a Comment