Cracks in the sidewalk-
Dirt lots strewn with broken dreams-
Grey wings on rooftops-
Trees spread through iron gateways-
A forest of steel limbs
Streets of the city.
Drifting through life eternal,
Ghosts sit on benches.
Memories are painted bright,
Fading with dotage.
The world at the edge.
Made pale in hazy moon light.
Wind flows like water.
Hidden from the eyes of man,
Deep within the obvious.
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