Poetry

Passing Masquerade

He rarely saw the city swept like this Prepared for black limousines of import Holding people here but for a moment While daily residents enjoy none spent They must be important, he thought That my world must stop for them Even as I wait for the promises to me To come to pass, to happen, to be Is it our victory if so few of us win? Why must I pay for what I don’t get? Can I call it mine when I have no part? How can I hope with a broken heart? As he watched their tail lights fade away He found himself still dirty, still hungry Left by the passing of a beautiful parade Realizing it was yet another masquerade #db