Green Lung

Broad alley, carved by rails,
lined with towering homes.
In the distance a glass ball
hangs in the air like dreams.

Feet patter to the green lung,
the people’s park, a past
emblazoned on hard surface
that once stood black.

Now birds sing to themselves,
Content in a warmth of shade –
Far from unforgotten flak and
piles of grumbling rubble.

Now the trees breathe and cool
for figures in pose below,
Early rest, mid afternoon,
Before city’s twinkling night.

Now the distant rumble and roar
shakes the ground with life,
Emerging from a moving ring,
Filling all else with light.

Broad alley, carved by rails,
lined with towering homes.

In the distance a glass ball
hangs in the air like dreams.

green-lung-002

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