21h • General discussion
November night
A November night wraps around abundant mind of a young poet
On maple leaves scattered across pavements of brown-hued melancholy
The wind gently brushes sensitive skin in a soft and measured rhythm
A tender breeze waters thoughts wandering through veiledd wastelands
Moonlight reveals a path - yet unknown and anew
People, in a state of ennui*, hidden behind masks of emotion in the dark alleys of tainted streets.
The city pulses with life yet remains dead at its core, painted in dim shades of its own emptiness.
Laughter, dancing, revelry - all so theatrical, forced, hollow.
*ennui (fr.) - boredom of living
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November night
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