The city

Draws near,

Like impending whatever

Depending on

Your apocalyptic

Beliefs,

But it

Is an amazing

Sight to behold;

Could walk beneath

These city lights

Amidst

These urban sprawls

And maybe

Force myself

To believe

That I didn’t once originate

As

The happy country bumpkin.

You never forget

Roots,

I realize this,

So maybe

A cauldron mixture

Of

Worlds

Is in order.

---

Searching for new reads?

Poetry about Strange Cars or maybe a fictional novel journal about a Dioramist protagonist who struggles with a passion for writing and a former love? Be sure to check out my published wares on Amazon if you’re interested.

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