Black slashes cut across green,
grey islands on emerald seas.
Surrounded by rippled blues,
dark and mysterious wavy hues.
Blocks of red, silver and grey
towers multiplying day by day.
Lined with light, twinkling yellow or white,
shining stars on the canvas of night.
Silver tracks tacked on to verdant ground,
through wooded valleys engines start to pound.
Picking up speed to get from A to B,
people moving constantly.
Along capillaries and veins,
in metal frames the masses cross the plains,
zipping through the night,
criss-crossing the countryside with lights.
Rush hour slows it all down to a stop.
Gridlocked
in a game against the clock.
Clogged arteries, pressure grows,
bumper to bumper,
traffic
no longer flows.
Thanks for reading
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Peace, Love and Poetry
Kyle
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