Desolate, abandoned,
The rust clogs memories
With its aged, withered hands.
Rotting wood
Makes for dangerous
Stepping.
Maybe, even,
dangerous dreaming.
Fought free from Rust's
Greedy grasp,
A lone sprout is vigilant
For survival.
Green, a hopeful signpost
In the grey of commonplace
Stepping and
dangerous dreaming.
Author notes
Went on a walk once. To an abandoned brick factory. The place was falling apart. But in one room we managed to climb up to, there was one sprout growing among all the rubble. It was beautiful.
A contest entry
- Word by Reptile Lady by Reptile Lady.
625 points, ended November 11, 7 entries
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Comments
-
A wonderful write as you took us to that abandoned factory and where life breathes again.
The place came flooding into my thoughts
best wishes to you and thanks
Julie
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