walking through the city:
it’s six a.m. on a
chill winter day.
fog abounds, i can’t see
more than
thirty metres down the road.
isolated –
it’s a public holiday.
the cold brushes over me
ignoring my fashionable
jacket.
the sky remains violet
as one car
swooshes past.
gone,
into the fog.
disappearing in a faint
glow of taillights.
and again,
another car.
can any of the cars’
occupants
see me, i wonder.
streetlamps glow
above me,
ethereal and almost
too bright against the
pitch-dark sky.
the world remains
on pause,
a fortress disguised
as night.
violet turns pale,
the haze clears and
light creeps over the horizon.
it’s a new day.
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Lovely poem.
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