Profound brown leaves,
crushed underneath my
feet, like memories; swirling
and forlorn.
I dream of us and our children,
it’s the good times that I cling
onto in the noonday sun.
It’s the memories that shelter
me, from the onslaught of winter
woe.
It’s the knowledge of loneliness,
that mortifies me the most, lost
without my family.
It’s facing a craggy city, threading
a bleak needle of homelessness,
asleep in some derelict house, long
abandoned by inhabitants, encased
now by only the darkness and me.
—–
Wayne Russell is an amateur photographer and creative writer who was born and raised in Florida. Wayne’s musings have been published online and in print since about 1990. Wayne is a recovering alcoholic who currently roams the streets of Columbus, OH.
