A Secretary Or A Waitress Poem by Uriah Hamilton

The leaves rustle
A windswept autumn melody,
I walk alone the urban streets
Of beautiful sadness;
The grey sky is dangling
The threat of a slow, lonely rain.

I follow a blowing newspaper
To a cold corner bus stop
And gaze at a secretary or a waitress
Making her way home.

If I’m still walking at midnight,
There will be rats and raccoons to greet
In some alley of despair,
And there is always a stray thought
Trying to remember the last person I loved.