boulevard

Walking on a boulevard
My silent self around strange faces
The city of lights
The Arabian beats
Paint a modern art,
And cast a new man in the sand

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Dust on my shoes

This street is dull
Sweeps particles of dust along it’s pavements

Onto my shoes,
Dirty laces through eyelets of tired leather

The park once bloomed
Faces of unknown lovers wishing upon the fountain

And I played a song
The strange tune of a forgotten guitar

Hearts came alive
The warmth of thunderous clapping delighted my soul

That I came each day
To pull the strings of that same guitar

Days fell in and out
Hearts walked in and out

Never returned
These piles of little scrolls of unread poetry

The dust between the lines
On every letter,

The tiny pieces of my heart
May be I am just another beggar on the street

May be my journey came this far and here it ends
May be I only need to dust my shoes

Homeless

Sad eyes wink in the dark,
Frozen hair masking his face
The lines of grey,
Around his chin to the temples,
Telling stories of his past,
Silently folding on a moldy cardboard
With a running nose
bleeding on the street

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