these trees…

these trees…

‘tween alleys where drunken vagabonds seek refuge…girls play tricks… boys let them…

these trees of greens…golds…reds…winter is near…

candy-bar wrappers lay at their feet…opened trash-cans…wrinkled rubbers…worn-out men…

these trees are old… saw the building of a church…houses go-up…come-down…watched those in Sunday attire…uniforms of weekday toils…jump-suits for Saturday night…

girls in pigtails…Doo Rags tied down… cocked-hats…go an’ get yo’self…a jheri’curl…are ya’scared…well don’t be…

these trees whose leaves have death in mind…will return again…and again…

i will watch…

i will watch…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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