Soft Tower

Image by carloyuen from Pixabay

Steel ‘scrapers swing slowly,
Heavy wind shaking their weight.
Citizens watch through windows’ distorting gape,
And lose care seeing the others also blowing.

Full moon’s hangover reminds of repetition,
Routine, regret, a rewinding tape.
While they burn for nights in the cape,
Irrelevance traps them in human condition.

Recurring sway snaps structure.
The soft towers fold first,
They know, gravity quenching thirst,
And watch pressure puncture posture.

Still looming, lost lust.

Still booming, chemical thrust.

Still grooming a fleeting trust.

Isolated in the soft towers
They sit, hope their only power,
In the variable mist, silently sour,
Searching for their reason to cower.