I recall the delicate flickering under the steepled sky
Always with the slight taste of sorrowful smoke.
No more.
Now leaden flames flash in the semi-dark,
The glow of childhood or childishness
Replaced in favor of some mechanical impostor.
A penny for your thoughts sir,
A quarter for your prayers.
Say what you will
About waxen tears and the sting of smoke,
At least there was a record
And you knew how it stood.
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
I recall the delicate flickering under the steepled sky
Always with the slight taste of sorrowful smoke.
No more.
Now leaden flames flash in the semi-dark,
The glow of childhood or childishness
Replaced in favor of some mechanical impostor.
A penny for your thoughts sir,
A quarter for your prayers.
Say what you will
About waxen tears and the sting of smoke,
At least there was a record
And you knew how it stood.
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