Poetry/Short Stories

The city.


Cruel space

Upon a lost “soul” amidst

A “hunting” crowd

Filled with noise

From loud voices scattered in the air

Like bad perfume



Are the well composed

Beings posed in well

Pressed shirts and dresses

With neckties to match their distress

As they

sway from Street to street


The air is heavy

I can barely breathe

Without thinking

Of the vast bold air that linger 

On the open prairie

Of home


City lights shine

Upon sleepless beings

Headed every where

Or no where

They shine on me too

As I make my way 

Back to the lights under the moon

Far outback.

Susan McMillan

12 thoughts on “The city.

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