Noise echoes through the streets,
As a black car buzzes by,
Then a red sports car,
And a white Jeep,
Gentle trees stretch up in day,
Caught up in the city rush,
The urban smell pervades the air,
Oh how artificial is our world,
Looking up into the sky,
Black, white, silver, and gold,
Stretching up into the clouds,
Behold the skyscrapers of America
Bridges bend for passerby,
The lakes are lit with eerie breeze,
And what softness do the waves come with,
HOMES calls out to the passerby,
Sitting inside worn subway seats,
Looking out to genus erica,
In the depths of the urban Chicago,
Behold, the center of America
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry Journal (Waves)
PoetryThis is just a collection of poems I decided to write down in some of my brightest, and darkest moments.
