by Anita McQueen
The streets
my only escape
nonchalant walk
at first
then running
night
faces in windows
macabre
yellow eyes
hidden hands
reaching
somewhere
a crescent moon
lighting a dancing crowd
where the new world begins.
http://sweetstreetmcqueen.blogspot.com/
http://anitamcqueenpoetry.blogspot.com/
Advertisements
