Photo©Robert Natkay
When the hum of the city enfolds me,
And the shrill, broken laughter pierces
The rumbling yellow-lit doorways,
I wish I were miles away.
When I hear a voice cracked and splintered
Breaking a tune in pieces
And wringing its blood on the doorstep,
I wish I were miles from here.
The light never fades in the city,
The shadows too shallow to hide
The ruins of soft living and dying,
And I wish that the windows were blind.
When the streetlights hang veils in the night sky,
Like hellish moons daubing the dark,
I wish for a falling star’s magic,
A white owl, I’d spread wings and fly.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
