For too long now,
We have stood at the end of the street,
To just enough,
Here is where the bus lines terminate,
And the gravy train never stops,
Where the shadows of the city,
Its skyscrapers and factories,
Dominate the skies,
And darken this place,
Even in the Spring sunshine,
The cold still chills,
And the wind tries to steal,
The little we have gathered,
To make this our home.
© P Edwards 2015
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