Urban Ruins

A reworking of a poem I wrote some time ago that never felt entirely right.

Blue clouds caress pink-tinted skies
Sneakers hang down from telephone wires
Cracked pavement bleeds green, pried open by nature
Art on brick walls, the mark of a culture

White freckled night adorns the black sphere
Forest bonfires glow in the cool air
Drinking in deep swigs of elation
Last gasps of youth, tinged with emotion
 
Disappointment’s heavy weight
The glam of prom and graduation
Waiting ‘til they drop the curtain
Drop the bomb and kill the charade

Younger days lie beneath urban ruins
Picking through rubble to pull out what remains
Searching for something that I can hold onto
The places and faces all seem to have changed