Saturday, July 9, 2011

Parking Lot Blues

He looks at all these people
coming and going.
All with a place to go
but he, always he
like a bird in a tree
flying from one parking lot
to another.

Cops on the prowl
and somehow
he simply blends in.

Just a old man
sitting in his car
waiting for someone 
perhaps
who never shows up

and the time creeps by.
Good he'll sigh,
for he's in no hurry to die
as he waits for the night’s
dark embrace…




2 comments:

  1. Good Evening:

    How divine when you come to poetry potluck,

    Week 43 is free verse week, submit 1 to 3 random poems, enjoy the fun!

    Hope to see you tonight.

    xoxox

    ReplyDelete