Candid_Pipe

A frost thicks the air,

White wisps rise in rings

And give the day’s change.

Bare bones of wood stand

Stark and split the sky.

​

All faces passing

Ruddy, the bounty

Of spring woven and

Wrapped ‘round necks to warm.

Winds lash eyes to tears.

​

Summer dreams, days long

Departed will return.

Huddle closer in

Grey bliss. The winter

Is now beautiful.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/yf6lsu/leak/iu226jt/?context=3

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/yexlwo/an_ambivalent_execution/iu22i1e/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/ye

The knell, the clap

Of hammer on

Cast bell. The dread.

The trudge onwards.

​

Incontinent

Time keeps spilling

Over. Covet

The conclusion.

​

Abrupt cries fade

Gentle murmurs,

And know I do

None to replace.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/y0hxnx/comment/irtrhl5/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/y0thhj/searing_throat/irtryom/?context=3

The smells will be the same. Smoke and onions. People hacking up too, that won’t stop. The ageless man who shouts ‘City leather keyrings, only two pounds’ will hold down his corner and the low walls will be littered with polystyrene boxes smeared with curry sauce. The police will be there with horses. It will be quiet.

Odd to think about how important this lull is to the surroundings. Every other week they are barraged with the hungry and thirsty. They do them well. The stadium is the nucleus and all around people buzz like decaying electrons, some dangerous and some not. This is when they make their money and pay their rent and pay their staff. It has to be done.

The big grey building is