The Alleyway

Walking down this narrow path, on concrete grounds,
there’re psychopaths.
Any noise cannot beat the sounds of harrowing winds
which creep around.

Keys jangle in pockets, gusts of wind throws feathers
in circles; spinning in a world of their own,
a piece of ropey path provoked with arrogant leaves
crunch and sweep up beneath feet.

Abandoned rubbish litters this neglected pathway, a
piteous waste of stretched out land
now a vacant shortcut; convenience at one’s knowledge
or leisure in this small parallel area.

Countryside values are found pictured underneath soles
flattening things smaller than they,
wearing the earth, values lessen like the disappointed
glaring frown that jumps onto faces.