NaPoWriMo 13: Dead End

Glass holds a moving image,
trapped in a continuum,
never free but always moving.

Tethered by a business suit
collared by a white starch shit,
looking out past the city-scape
to a dream caught in the wind.

Choked by the overhead noose,
desperate to be set loose
the shadow of the street upon them.
Scores of maybe friends
smile and dissipate into the night.

They stand by the traffic lights,
on windswept rail platforms,
pigeons perusing the detritus.
Maybe one day
the track forward will clear,
the lights may change.

One day.

NaPoWriMo #10: Melancholic Afternoon

When the sky is clogged with clouds,
when the roads are empty
and the houses steadfastly silent,
and the fields rain-drenched,
dotted by rouge magpies and jays,
melancholy takes over.

When the goldfinches vanish,
when cats shelter under hedges
and the mist settles on the hillside,
and the gloom of dusk arrives
heralded by the drone of airliners,
melancholy takes over.