The Street Poem by Agatha Eliza

Behind me
the line of trees gets blurred
dissolves into particles,
from fresh-cut green
to ashen grey,
glittering
like the sharp splinters
of an incandescent
ever spiralling
large, speckled diamond
through a mirror-like blue sky.


The people are walking by...
burdened by the long hours
the upcoming night,
too shy to greet,
too confuse
even to ghost by
with their smiles
filtered
through stained glass,
painted in autumn's colours.