A Sanctuary
Deserted,
at least that’s the way it seems
at a glance.
No one has walked these streets
for years,
going by the dust that has gathered
on the side-walks.
Concrete,
blasted by what?
Nature?
War?
Bereft of life...
but wait,
that’s not true.
Humanity might have taken it’s leave
but if you think the town is empty
then you’ve been very much deceived.
Cracks and crevices
provide shelter now
for those
that here do
dwell.
Submitted: January 31, 2020
© Copyright 2022 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.
Comments
Eloquently stated. But you might be bored there, just you and the bugs. "The grave's a fine and private place..."
Fri, January 31st, 2020 7:22pmSuch a wonderful poem, Hullabaloo. It reminds me of a theme written by Sara Teasdale in her poem "There will come soft rains" where she describes the animals and plants going on quite unaware that we humans are all gone because we have killed each other off. Such a powerful theme you tackle here, Hullabaloo, and you do it so beautifully.
Fri, January 31st, 2020 7:34pmLife always finds a way. Onya Hulla!
Sat, February 1st, 2020 4:43pmBrilliant poem, Hully. So very thought provoking.
Sun, February 2nd, 2020 2:35pmFacebook Comments
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Mike S.
Life springs and clings eternal, Hull, excellent!
Fri, January 31st, 2020 7:19pmAuthor
Reply
Thanks, Mike.
Fri, January 31st, 2020 12:56pm