Metro

Every morning, I visit
A strange, moving museum;
With statues of every shape and size
Each facing a different direction.
Occasionally, some statues break form
To talk jovially to a nearby friend
Or to speak to a loved one
Projecting their care from far away.
But usually, what I observe is
Lifeless, listless, bored faces.
With no hint of the enthusiasm
That usually comes with the morning sun.
Each one lost in their own sweet world.
Each one too busy to look up from their phone.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s