Grey screen of million shades, drips
a steady aqueous stream
Cars roll across the tarred roller coaster savanna
like wildebeest in Serengeti,
kicking up a fine misty wall of haze.
Across the bend, through the swooshes of blades,
a chink in the leaky screen, peeks baby blues.
Up on the hill,
the screen rends the grey.
And down the hill,
the hazy mist glows,
and the concrete terrain glistens in wet gold.
The daily migrants diverge at the exit ramps –
some rush to watering holes
to wash off the monotonous grime of cube land;
some head to dry shelters to the embrace of loved ones;
all go to commiserate, to laugh and to live again.
Notes: NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 12 prompt was to write a poem on ““write a poem consisting entirely of things you’d like to say, but never would, to a parent, lover, sibling, child, teacher, roommate, best friend, mayor, president, corporate CEO, etc.” I would have like to write something new using the prompt. Except, I won’t have time to do it, tonight. So instead, I posted this poem. I had written parts of earlier and then added and edited parts of it during last few days. Don’t know if that meets the spirit of the challenge.