Setting sun and color dims
Some park and bench from ancient years
Some thousand heads have rested there
On rotted wood and metal.
Rising moon and darkness falls
The withered cane clicks on the walk
The empty purse a ticking clock
'Til tired eyes shut finite.
Countless stars and total night
Her wrinkled soul like body maimed
Her tattooed wrist whose digits named
One jilted grain of sand - sleeps.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
Setting sun and color dims
Some park and bench from ancient years
Some thousand heads have rested there
On rotted wood and metal.
Rising moon and darkness falls
The withered cane clicks on the walk
The empty purse a ticking clock
'Til tired eyes shut finite.
Countless stars and total night
Her wrinkled soul like body maimed
Her tattooed wrist whose digits named
One jilted grain of sand - sleeps.
Wrote this one a while back, and just never got around to posting it. I originally wanted to put it to music, but the meter was too weird.
