Shrouds lie still

Fog rolls
quiet avenues surrender
throw down their forms
give in to slate-gray
obscurity

every house is stocked
to the teeth
with windows, useless
pall lounges.
Shrouds lie still.

sidewalk sections
each erupting
thanks to imperialist trees
grasp footsteps
drag them down into the earth

Silence reigns
morning dawns.

Blossoms

Rusted, monuments now;
Stoic reminders of the collapse;
There to see the start;
And end of a dream;
 
Streetlamps masquerade;
Stand ceremonial guard as darkness forms;
An elegant lattice that traps the;
Citizens within their fire-lit homes;
 
Not all, though;
Two ford the dark rivers to isles;
Claimed by a benign moon;
And sit upon the grass to reveal;
Inner selves;
That hide under the judging sun;
 
Luna holds no prejudice;
It gently smiles upon the two;
Whose hands drift towards each other;
 
All is not well in the world;
Where time and neglect have;
Made dust of triumph;
The dark becomes;
A rigid cage;
 
But also, for some the key;
The two hands clasp;
Love blossoms;
Love blossoms in the dark;