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Junkyard King

Contributed by skinny-little-punk on Thursday, 18th July 2002 @ 12:04:28 PM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

summer swells in the heat of dusty streets
we do not know the rain
the asphalt, cracked, many years of use
marks the spans of our domain.
heavy drifts of dust like snow
lie over wooden gates
inside our treasure, broken parts,
a kingdom lays in wait.
atop a pile of busted scrap
a broken chair sits high;
our feet are bare, the pile tall,
and the one to climb is i.
when sun sets on the tan horizon
and shadows call the hour,
i climb the gates and walk back home;
no longer wielding power.
i hear boys shout behind me,
their mothers at the gate,
and by myself I trudge back home,
where darkness lays in wait.

Copyright © skinny-little-punk ... [ 2002-07-18 12:04:28]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Junkyard King (User Rating: 1 )
by Chrissie on Thursday, 18th July 2002 @ 11:18:02 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Excellent...I'm very taken with what I've read of yours...you're good at this.
Chrissie

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