THE SKY OF LOST POEMS

she walks through nighttime streets
sleepwalker of the apocalypse,
ageless, aging,
strength leaving her body
yet still surprised by
her reflection
in shop windows.

who is that scraggly-haired, round
woman in fading clothes,
long ago forever-young,
once able to

command

with just her glance? 

under the guise of old age,
invisible,

spirit flagging,
she is the Observer, now:
of young people who believe
they will never be old,
of rich people who believe
they will never be poor,
of night streets breeding
dying dreams, false 

hopes,
despair,

as the stars wink out, one by one,
across the sky of lost poems.

For Sanaa’s prompt at Real Toads: the last line of a poem by e.e.cummings:  "in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems."

I took the whole poem as inspiration and tried to approximate its tone.