A City Poem: Sofia

April Poem-A-Day 12 – City Poem

urban landscape

Image by eDamak

Even the snow is black
greasy with the tracks of tired tires,
rolling without an end –
day in, day out.

Twenty-four rush hours,
spilling in random precision
over boulevards like cold veins,
running along the hostile eyes
of office buildings and hotels.

Isolation stalks our smiles,
so we save them,
until inside gardens crowd our comfort zones,

as elevators hold our politeness –
small talk on the smoke area benches

in stark contrast with the social death outside.

©2014, soulmary

Featured image by Fmax here.