Storm Sewers

The bars are still there.
Bright with rust.
Worn by storms.
But still there.

Carefully placed
where the water runs out.
Keeping the flotsam out.
Keeping the flotsam in,

an old man’s protection,
a child’s firewall
against storms too large,
and a heart too small.

About this poem. 

We all self protect, for better or worse.

Tom