The pretender


The mud puddles dance in the wind as my boots tap in the night. The streets littered with a handful of lights, I trace my step along the cold rainy stone laying under my feet. Headlights streak through the streets as I wander back home. I come upon this marked street with that familiar tidy little home, and rest my breath that is shown in the night. I open my pockets and ponder my scene, I seem to have gone and misplaced my key. Now what will I do, I've already made my walk. I sigh real hard, it's really my fault and I can't blame what's been done to me on another man's soul. Well, it's no luck at all so I'll start walking back from where I came. Its better to stop wishing that I lived in that home.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

Meant as a go at using imagery, turned out as this, has meaning literally and metaphorically