Claying in through desert fads
Like some of those old Utah lads
The perrenial sun is the scorching one
Like dumped up logic in deafed up pun
Passing through the graveyard cross
Halcyon of the deep loss
Now way ahead of time strands
The fanthom mark reminds me errands
Of every dawn that strikes me whole
Reminds me- for time, there's no dole
I can stop at mark and sob indeed
But a purpose lives, over I feed.
How the loss of something affects us in ways.
