The great imagination.
I think we have lost a bit of that flair in life.
A bit of time when we can go away
to a wondrous world of hope.
Life is so mundane.
We spend day after day toiling away for survival.
Some have it easier than others,
and then there are those who struggle
and spiral to an end of defeat.
How awful and ghastly it can be.
Especially after living in what was
an obscured lap of luxury.
How bloody lovely it had been
and now the walls are caving in.
A cape of warmth escapes
into shreds of woolen thread.
I can still recollect fragments of moments
from where I have been.
Bitter shocks of reality stain the mattress of time.
Lines along the foreground release what once was mine.
A scatterbrain of doubt is all that does remain.
That and magic crystal drops from quiet spots of rain.
No one can erase the past with indiscretions best.
A clock upon the wall shall tell the time well guessed.
Walls once bound by brick and stone have melted to an unknown future.
Ghastly naked pain remains and that is all for sure.
A fine ribbon appears to bring me hope.
Perhaps with rise of the sun tomorrow I’ll find a slice to cope.
Then again the walls will shrink some more tomorrow.
Absolute for sure will be an ounce of sorrow.
Perhaps you find this down to the dumps.
Tennis shoes and slippers replaced the shiny pumps.
Wear your current proudly, for the end will be a gown.
Roses on parade shall break the loss of sound.
Alas! Go long and hearty to the end which has drawn near.
Clap your hands with pride as magic ash melts to atmosphere.