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.