M ~ Mc Phearson Street

Mc Phearson Street~

He used to stand at the edge

of creation

watching the waves splash

against cold dark stone

til the sun was pale

streaks of orange and pink.

Shadow sky wrapped around it

in shades of midnight blue

and it became something new.

He used to listen to music

from an old jukebox

on the last block of Mc Phearson

where the postman would wait,

til old man Wilkerson

took his dog for a walk,

to deliver the mail.

The wind was always cold

and the coffee always hot

in the SideStreet Cafe'.

They called this hell,

He called it home.

© k~

This post is part of the
A-Z Challenge 2012.