What am I
But a poem?
Collecting constantly from
Buildings and broken
Pipes and broken
Dreams what
Am I if not
A poem
At night
After a day
Of observation
A collected weight of the day
Dumped by the bridge
Under the street lights
Mixing with the moonlight
I am a lengthy poem for sure
It has taken a long time to write me
It wont be easy to read through all of this
There is no instant
Anymore
