the man stands amidst the urban buzz,
contemplating with a cigarette in his mouth.
it burns, fades into the air, the atmosphere -
slithers into the grained sky, the now.
the city lights echo with the honks and yells
eternally. everything makes its own sound:
the beating hearts of the young, of the old
tickle his ears, make their ways into him.
the thoughts are inevitable, and they’ll always be.
he reminisces his lover, his family, his hope,
the possessions he prized, the ones he had lost,
the ones that flicker in his charred heart and mind.
the rain begins to fall - coldly, yet with hospitality
dotting the man’s cracked, dry lips, they refuse to smile.
the man thinks too often but never too hard
about the world put behind him, the world before him.