James Three

A smile on his face, he says he’ll carry on, can’t turn away, a horizon once bright, he navigates over bones, feels it's right, maybe take a train, like a lover that's gone, it came once his way, the picture's not kind, could cry but he won't, no place to make light, why thoughts work this way, he’ll never understand, here on the pave, within a city's sight, hardly a sound, under a summer sky, bets he could make, tied to the stove, there’s nothing to gain, by going home.