A white bird is the big sky.
Under it a cowering city stares.
The houses are half-dead old people.
A gaunt carriage-horse gapes grumpily.
Winds, skinny dogs, run weakly.
Their skins squeel on sharp corners.
In a street a crazed man groans: You, oh, you -
If only I could find you...
A crowd around him is surprised and grins derisively.
Three little people play blind man's bluff -
A gentle tear-stained god lays the grey powdery hands
Of afternoon over everything.
The City
Alfred Lichtenstein
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Poem topics: city, god, horse, sky, bird, gentle, white, play, tear, street, sharp, blind, crowd, people, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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