Cruel space
Upon a lost “soul” amidst
A “hunting” crowd
Filled with noise
From loud voices scattered in the air
Like bad perfume
.
Brutal
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
Rhythm In Life 
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
Thank you for sharing🙏🙏
Wow love this! 🙂 ❤
Thank you very much Miss Natalie🙏💝
Reblogged this on Sacred Touches.
Loved this susan ❤ xxx
Thank-you very much my dear 💝
Brilliant composition of words.
Thank-you very much Kamal🙏. I enjoyed writing it.
Welcome friend.
All the things that go to make a city a city!
Absolutely. I am a country gal all the way 😊