Past fickle fields
of cursing kids
he roamed,
yearning
to unearth some nest;
every sign
was distorted
and rebuffed
his sagging eyes.
He flew down the streets
And eternal highways of gray
to pass the time;
he stopped
to watch the sun
creep up
where it would never
descend.
of cursing kids
he roamed,
yearning
to unearth some nest;
every sign
was distorted
and rebuffed
his sagging eyes.
He flew down the streets
And eternal highways of gray
to pass the time;
he stopped
to watch the sun
creep up
where it would never
descend.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
Eilatan
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