A wasted day.
Grey and steel the ambulance man took my money
For the bus with padded seats fitted for insanity.
Shipped up the slopping hill towards learning,
red trees pattern the fading green grass lawns.
Now autumn came with sighing breath
and did loudly toll a sad filled death
not off human nor of stone, but the demise of hope,
red robed in bloody universal gowns.
She did not die from lacking interest,
Or catch the current climate cold
But instead succumb to the plague of maturity
Complicated by failing the flu.
As your eyes cry stagnant tears
Dabbed daintily by coin notes
Glimpse behind the toilet curtain
where her victims lie cold.
Then dont moan too harshly
for this goddess of old.
Without hope we have nothing,
its no less than before.