My America
My America/ Heaven (Poems)
My America
The night was deep
but the window was clean,
one of the few on the street
The road to sunrise was empty
and the light above it was
obstructed.
Something filthy and broken
wrapped up on the arm of the light
over the road to sunrise.
Looked as though the wind
and blown a plastic bag
ripped, torn and stretched
around the light
over the road to sunrise.
I peered closer.
The night was deep, but the window was clean.
It was no plastic bag,
but faded Glory in the breeze.
poem by John Powers
Added by Poetry Lover
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