Worst harvest
Coming home in a town that I don't know,
wandering through the streets near my house.
Stumble on the concrete torn by the flowers growing up,
forshadowed by the street lights.
Wasting away my days,
thinking about these things,
and I'm lost.
You're gone, and I can't find,
the right words to say,
please stay.
Sit on the balcony, thinking so endlessly,
about the sun rise.
Every new day of the week,
same things that I see,
boring chores,
I do all the time,
here I am,
stranded and stuck.
elPintor
Fri 5th Apr 2019 22:25
This may be welcome, or not, but your piece reminded me of a movie...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVT_rJ0bRC8
The milieu is both beautiful and painful at once.
Rachel