I puff some smokes
The sky responds
The siren sounds
The city chokes
I inhale air, fresh life
A memory, times unnoticed
A warmth, under the red sun
A pity, o what have we done?
I laugh, under my mask
Maybe that was a cough
Maybe history is repeating
Maybe this too shall pass
I whisper a prayer
Are our priorities fumbled?
Are we comical of consequences?
Are we playing with finalities?
Thank you for reading! Please read more of my work here.
Read my stories and articles here.
Leave a Reply