36th & Broad Street

The ground has grown colder

The flowers though grow taller

Fail to emit a scent of serenity

The clouds still allow sunshine

But the pallor of your laughter

Is what one would reserve for a scream

My tattered peacoat still warms me

The trumpet player plays a solo 

On a street soon empty 'cept for you and I

Your gloved hand still holds mine

But the grasp is one for a ledge 

And I feel I'm slipping to the ravine

An accordion grinder plays so gently

The ash from a cigarette finds the wind

The street light changes so slightly

And the steam arises from beneath a manhole cover

And like a ghost I fade into a dream 

 

 

If you post a comment below, you will be entered into this month's drawing to win a free oversized t-shirt from one of our sponsors.

Please take the time to like this post and share it with your friends. We appreciate your support.

Are you looking for something?

Album of the Week

Map & Directions

Site Sponsored by:








 

Subscribe to Hey Rubes!

* indicates required
/ ( mm / dd )