The sky is glum today,
with no hope, nor comfort
to fall back upon.

Its fanciful colors
of champagne and sunburst
no longer explode on the great
canvas, but dust and charcoal
lay siege, encompassing the
heavens in fire.

Scraping and coughing
the calloused, wrinkled hands
fed the box with fingers and toes,
hairs and nails, blood and bones,
then closed the lid
and slowly walked home.

Invincible is not immortal
but circumstantial is everything.
Two less beers, two more seconds,
two more guardrails, two more years.
Two tears and 12 months later

champagne and sunburst
blazed again with a touch
of aqua and powder blue.
The grass grew back
but I can't
forget you.

01/12/2004

Posted on 10/28/2004
Copyright © 2024 S. Pelham Flood