I live in a crumbled city
atop wilted rose petals
swimming in the ash
overlooking the ocean.
I live on piled concrete
sitting on the precious deaths
of springtime’s memories
looking through a bird’s eyes
at sunken cities
and wishing
this life could remember
its colors.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available onΒ amazon!

18 thoughts on “Grey

      1. It’s one of these really really old port cities..Historic and decaying from lack of money..When I was there they opened up the ancient churches that were boarded up for years on Saturday’d walk into and look up at an oil painting 6 feet tall..Marble sculptures ancient wood. I also went to a few masses in Latin …It was like you could feel the oldness of everything.

        Liked by 1 person

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