Lost
Lost
In that narrow alley
He lost himself
Everything there
The burgeoning trees, side parterres,
Sprawling houses and sobbing huts
Stationed cars and the fading sun
All had a usual day
In that broad daylight
He lost himself
In that narrow alley
Could not find
And gather himself
That blew off somewhere
As strewn hay
In such a little time
In that narrow alley
After a night-long penance
Envisioning and determination
He had started off a broadway
Cruising confidently
To a hallowed destination
Descended to an alluring alley
At a destined fork
In a blip of stroke
To lose himself
In that narrow alley
He carried a confidence
And was sure of his charm
He dreamt of a new path
To the hallowed destination
But was disarmed
By the magic of the alley
He, the broadway speedster
Was imprisoned to the depth and the breadth
Of the narrow alley.
He failed to fathom and to pass
He maneuvered, starved,
Exasperated and evaporated
To be strewn like rootless grass
In the wuthering alley
And he lost himself
In that narrow alley