Sounds of Winter
by Ljubo Popovich
Brittle swarms of moth-like snow Slushy streets slowly thaw Somewhere, the scream of a deep-throated train Dim reflections percolate into windows Ladies breathe like trembling icicles. They quietly gaze with espresso-dark eyes Footsteps filter down dirty alleyways. A waitress, tiered with plates, pauses Evening settles over the ashy horizon. A tawny maiden haunts these boroughs. One of these years, her glassy eyes will fill with tears. |
Copyright © 2018 by Ljubo Popovich