Beauty?

Cigarette butts smudged into the stone
Dreaming of smoke and skin
Like an urban mural left to blemish
The pavement
An empty vodka bottle slumbering
By the roadside as it catches
The early morning sun and glints
In the gutter like a fallen star
White paint peeling
From the Neighbour’s windowsill
Falling like snow
The flakes fluttering butterflies
Yesterday’s newspaper lost in time
The grey faces blurred in the rush
It is crying black ink like mascara
Defeated by rain
A black umbrella tumbling down the street
Like the sail of a ship bobbing on a sea
Of paving stones
Or some noble bird shot from the sky
Left to rot
Looking up at all it ever was.