in all the pretense
in all the justification
you are alright

i don't have your sensibility
I don't have your judgment
it is so refined

i **** what i revered
certainly part of aging
to revolt

become revolting
full of knowledge
drained of life

thinning alive
i detest
the design of time

how it lands in your lap
on a cold morning
when you are alone

hoping a keyboard
and some coffee
will reconcile the sunset


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis