bridge in Paris
Brian Hogan


Empty city streets

Waiting for me to break 

The dark

Soggy trees drip,

Cold, wet, damp

My bones are soaked.

Shallow puddles holding your shallow dreams

Chilled to my core

Trees sway bare in the breeze

Windows fogged

And steamy roads

Whistling through the buildings

Brisk, always moving

Even through corners of stillness

Quiet noise

And when trees are dead 

There is no shade to protect me

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About Brian

About Brian

Brian is a Writer, Clarity Coach, Filmmaker and Adjunct Professor who loves teaching and learning, and living in the uncertainty of it all.


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