A Face in the Crowd
The summer sun
heats the asphalt.
Blistering wind
sweeps through the Gorge,
burning my upturned face.
Ten stages.
Ten bands.
Melodies compound into noise.
It's all I can hear−
endless noise.
I wait.
Soon they will come,
my boys, my saviors, my idols.
They will play,
then go on with their lives.
They will never know my name.
I will only ever be a face in the crowd.
YOU ARE READING
Poems... Because... Why not?
PoetryJust some poems I had to write for a class... they turned out good so I decided to share (:
