Under Lost Leaves

As I peek my head out
Of the curtains on Tuesdays
The people I admire least of all
Are the strangers with eyes
Black as mine,

Their hopes
Just the scum sitting
Under lost leaves,
Their faces decaying.

Evening arrives,
Night passes in seconds
And the dawn starts again,

The sour mulch of winter
Blocking up all the drains.

As you’re waking to work,
I’m falling asleep
And dreaming with hope
That one day very soon
You won’t be so far away.

Poetry.net

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