We hold their silence…

Empty streets

rife with fears,

with rampant weeds of angst…

Appear quiet…

Appear somber…

We taste its dusky breath…

Drizzled over, night of lockdown…

Of winter roads ahead…

Homeward bound...

My beetle’s engine hums…

Reflecting lights, 

like shooting stars,

blind our weary eyes…

As once old certain roads,

of familiar...

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