Its dusty ill used and dark
And no amount of spring cleaning could rid it of the filth of last september
Where you left it to rot
Mold and ruin
But summers almost over and the flowers of life have bloomed
Where long festival night were spent trying to forget
Dancing that haze minded stupor and sweating out the poision of words and betrayal
Till the grime comes free
The air clears and the echo of your voice fades