City Of Iron Poem by Martin Greyford
City Of Iron
Rating: ★2.5
September skies accept
Your belch of refuse
And ashes are excreted
High above new grass that
Timidly borders
Your concrete veins,
Pulsating to sustain the hectic tempo
Of days that too soon expire.
Your structure ages
And you remain
A body
Without a soul.
Monday, December 14, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: aging,human condition,nature
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4/29/2024 7:15:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
'Your structure ages And you remain A body Without a soul.' - Disappointing thoughts on ageing, but inevitable.
nobody can escape that for sure