Walking

Dec 31, 2011
A silhouette in the distance
The streetlamps cast their lights
Momentarily cast a flickering glow
On his round hat, his trench coat.
He walks.
Though the night is dark
Though not a soul is awake.
Wandering, searching,
yearning
Craving for what he knows not.
He walks.
His eyes are dead hollows
Mystical allure
Of the darkness within him.
He walks.
He moves with purpose
His steps are firm, resolute
His black worn out boots
Yet to see the light of day.
Well past the witching hour
He treads.
He walks.
He walks alone.

4 comments:

  1. violet71711 said...:

    Reminds me of Boulevard of broken dreams.Well done as always :)

  1. Ay Jay said...:

    Wow. It does. Albeit, that was unintentional

  1. Jay said...:

    Any particular source of inspiration?

  1. Ay Jay said...:

    @Jay
    None in particular. It's a whole amalgam of things, a bit too much to put in mere words