Sherbourne Street beneath streetlights
Upward gaze through snowy veil
as Christmas eve fell white
Wonder for a day, then rain
and the grey beneath washed clean
A foreign body amid faces unknown
Present yet unaccounted
Dispossessed and liberated
Arrived with other vagabonds
and continental rejects expelled
Reflux of a cold war, forgotten like me
Shabby hallways, dimly lit
where hardwood floors groan under burden
of near a century’s bootprints
My own strange soil deposited
left in cracks that go unseen
We shared roll your own Drum in silence
two liters of vodka for a Christmas feast
Discovering our common ground
Western man’s universal disdain
Great post 🙂
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