A dark street,
lamps casting out only dim pools of light.
A lone figure,
slowly makes their way down the street.
Occasionally illuminated,
their appearance can be vaguely seen.
A mans figure,
swathed in a brown raincoat, hat pulled low.
Hands in pockets.
He walks in silence, his face unseen.
He stops walking,
perhaps reaching an unseen point or marker.
He takes a picture,
from his pocket, gazes at it, then puts it back.
His other hand,
he lifts up, he checks his watch once, then again.
He sighs deeply,
he looks around, then looks to the ground.
He turns back,
and walks away, in the direction he came from.
He never looks back,
as he makes his way down the empty street.
He ambles away,
heading into the distance, his figure slowly vanishes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem