Beneath the dim of La Trobe’s light,
A man steps into Melbourne night,
His shadow long, his pace is slow,
Past rusted walls in lantern glow.
A weathered hat sits firm with grace,
Drawn low to guard his silent face,
The cobblestones echo his tread,
Like whispers from the days long dead.
The building stands with timbers worn,
Its frame of history cracked and torn,
A relic of some bygone year,
Still holding secrets no one hears.
He does not glance, nor turn around,
Just fades into the sleeping sound—
A figure draped in time’s own thread,
Alive with ghosts, yet half-way dead.
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Night life!
ReplyDeleteHow fun! Same photo, two different poetic interpretations ~ One with a Harry Potter slant, and this one with a Melbourne take. It's a hot, hot Saturday morning here. I hope you're cool and comfortable, Roentare!
ReplyDeleteHope you eventually cool down
DeleteTiene una mirada pensativa, está absorto en sus cosas.
ReplyDelete...a lovely corner!
ReplyDeleteEasy to see that's a historic building. As you mentioned in your nice writing, that man doesn't check around, although he was walking in crowded place.
ReplyDeleteGreat photo of such a lovely corner of Melbourne.
This was from the moment before he reached the corner of the frame
DeleteVery good
ReplyDeleteGood shot. I do really like the building from before. The guy looks sorta sad, maybe lonely?
ReplyDeleteOops the same scene repeated. Just a fast frame that I shot through
DeleteMe transmite una cierta sensación de soledad. El hombre le da la espalda a todo y parece querer salir de ese bullicio.
ReplyDeleteIt's a very crowded corner.
ReplyDeleteInteresting poem. There is no way to tell what this fellow is thinking, or where he is going. He is a mystery man, perhaps he is a secret agent?
ReplyDelete