How long should we presume this gilded age
Staring at the wall.
Ever longing…
Sometimes hoping
always longing
Wait now pause --
Silence fills the emptey streetes.
Where lovers met now mother weeps
still crowded silence falls
plastic magic with a switch
how much would you pay for that
what would you give for that
How long should we presume this gilded age?
I just thought of this idea for a poem and quickly came up with this. Consider it a work in progress
