traffic lights

traffic lights

A Poem by Christopher Withers

Stuck, still, traffic bound, sat
in silent solitude, surrounded by 
my fellow man, each encased
in learnt response,
reacting to each small inflection,
never more than their reflection.

a woman walks, smile arresting,
her soul is etched, by need and hate,
contoured to her given face,
her eyes cast back, my own construction,
sat here, bound, a tired agent,
dreaming of emancipation.

the light, it changes,
breaking state, a reflection of
my inner scape. The journey
drives us past our haste,
an automaton craving grace.

© 2016 Christopher Withers

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Added on July 6, 2016
Last Updated on July 6, 2016


Christopher Withers
Christopher Withers

I recently discovered a user on this site had been posting my poems as his own. To combat this, I've decided to post my poetry here, hopefully stopping this from happening again. The poet in questi.. more..