The darkening sky stretches its omnipresent embrace
across the cityscape.
The sad trees cry bittersweet
on urban symbiosis.
They lament the lovely, portentous wind,
sweeping cigarette butts and human sin across gravel desires
and crayon-stained misery; wind heralding the lie of springtime on its wings,
where every bloom is an affront to winter’s gloom, laying bear the earthy truth-hewn
composition of our inner souls.
And the smiling green eyes of the streetlight
glimmer sad, and lovely, and bright
in the gray;
And we wondered, as a single hive mind, whether intrepid decay
was our greatest accomplishment together,
or the first wasted prayer of a first rainy springtime day.