Monochrome shades regulate the scenery.
Upon pallid lands, skyscrapers erected high
sweeping the horizon in chaotic asymmetry.
The sky crashes like a wave of gloom in the night.
The moon yet reigns with majestic tyranny.
Its silver light devours the darkness in my eyes.
The streets are plastered by shadows in company;
some are illuminated by patches of moonlight.
I walk the contrasted streets burdened on my feet.
My sight rises scheming ahead the blurred lines
anticipating a familiar shape of memory,
an opened door of a home and a warm smile.
21/02/2016 © Waseem Sherif
rhymed poetry is not my preference. but I do like to try different forms once in a while.