Flakes float to the ground
As a hush falls across the city.
Few cars brave the road.
Footsteps have yet to mark
The white surface.
The blanket of snow sparkles clean.
The city is refreshed,
Its sins covered,
For tonight.
A WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW
city
BENEATH THE CITY
Source:roybrandys
BENEATH THE CITY
Take me down the road.
All the way down.
Beneath the city.
To what lies below.
To the darkest depths.
Where no one dares to tread.
To the real city.
BELOW
(Source: roybrandys)
Take me down the road.
All the way down.
Beneath the city.
To what lies below.
To the darkest depths.
Where no one dares to tread.
To the real city.
WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW
WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW
The snow is falling.
Flakes float to the ground.
A hush falls across the city.
Few cars dare to brave the roads.
Too soon for building snowmen.
Footsteps have yet to marr
the white surface.
A white blanket.
Sparkling clean.
The city is refreshed.
Its sins covered.
A rebirth.
BENEATH THE CITY
(Source: roybrandys)
BENEATH THE CITY
Take me down the road.
All the way down.
Beneath the city.
To what lies below.
To the deepest depths.
Where no one dares to tread.
This is reality.
This is the city.
WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW
The snow has fallen.
A hush falls across the city.
A city covered in a soft,
white blanket of snow.
It cushions the earth.
Giving a clean look
to what was once dark.
ONE WINDOW
One window among many.
One window to the world.
Looking out to the darkness.
Alone.
Waiting.
Looking out to the darkness.
Waiting for something.
Or maybe someone.
BENEATH THE CITY
BENEATH THE CITY
Take me down the road.
All the way down.
Beneath the city.
To what lies below.
To the deepest depths.
Where no one dares to tread.
This is reality.
This is the city.
THE CITY
THE CITY
The city has its own beat.
Its own heart rate.
A pounding sensation.
An undercurrent of tension.
A pulsing dance.
Not to be found anywhere else.
Let’s dance all night.
Source:rlyhigh
MY SECRET
Sprinkle my path with pretty leaves and flowers.
I want to look at water and not towers.
Some color to brighten my day.
A place where the birds come to play.
I will walk to the end of the pier.
I’ll gaze into the depths without fear.
For I will only see fish swimming by.
And not any monsters lurking nearby.
Time will pass slowly and must be savored.
Whoever comes this way will be favored.
I think it’s only prudent and fair
To share my secret with those who care.
SUSANNE LEIST 