
Not caring that there’s snow beneath his feet,
and glancing at the ghosts that pass by restless,
beneath the lonely streetlight he can keep
a little bit of emptiness.
A smile carved on the bricks that plague the wall,
a simple, but implacable reminder,
of days that felt so warm, now days are cold,
yet in a way life’s kinder.
He wonders if he’ll see tomorrow come,
and looks up at the smile that someone carved there,
They’ve carved it like a map that leads back home,
whoever did it,
he’ll never know,
the night is frigid,
cold wind,
cold snow,
the streetlight’s shadow
amidst his glow…
C.2022, 12 JAN 2022, Francis Bravo Cabrera, València, España 🇪🇸
la sonrisa de la farola en medio su resplandor. Grande!
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Gracias! Un saludo.
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Such an optimistic poem for a snowy, cold wintry morning. Needed that today.
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Glad to hear Pat. And our morning started quite similarly… no snow yet, but rain… thanks 🙏🏻 so much!
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