Dragging on <br /> <br />the morning lights <br />are <br />beginning <br />to melt <br />the dark <br />of the night <br />steadily <br />before <br />my eyes <br /> <br />that is all <br />that there is <br />of <br />significance <br />to see <br />from <br />this window <br />here <br /> <br />and all <br />I have <br />to say <br />at this <br />hour <br /> <br />the <br />black tarmac <br />road is <br />deserted <br />and <br />the traffic <br />light <br />is <br />turning <br />haughtily <br />from <br />red to green <br />only for me <br />here alone <br />on the <br />first floor <br /> <br />going <br />nowhere.<br /><br />Kean Ghiero<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/green-45/
