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The city breathes.

The days are bright and the snow
breathes like the wild growths
of the jungle
except in the city where the jungle
is concrete and twisted metal

and
the night breathes hush-hush
where the lights glow happily out of
buildings a hundred stories tall,
a story from each window,
a man wishing to be home,
a woman wishing she could take a nice
vacation somewhere exotic:tropical

and
Atlas carrying the world,
the weight of the world on his shoulders,
looks in the plaza at all the delightfully
busy people rushing about

and
wishes he had time to rush.
©2009 ~reflectia
:iconreflectia:

Author's Comments

"When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not."

-- Georgia O'Keefe

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February 18
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