Enticement aside,
It’s a terrible game
When the throes of a lifetime
Dwindle to flame,
When the ague of long living
Denudes as it wears,
Where the beauty of youth
Simply mottles and tears.
The effort required
To gamble instead
Realistically questions…
Better off dead?
Standing *****
On a spire of stone
With the world all around
Yet completely alone,
Cold wind caresses
The knowledge of how
Old friends abandon me
Frequently now….
In dying like flies
With unseemly haste,
With a disregard
For my feelings, chaste,
The hollowness
Of last things said,
The bitterness
Of love, lost dead.
Recalling times,
With a cup of tea,
When you and I
Laughed happily.
When sunshine bled
Rich colours sang,
Bluebirds flew
And hot dice ran.
How those days
Caroused with joy
Lost to chance then,
Girl and boy.
Hurrying,
With you on my arm,
Dressed to the nines
Bustling charm
Off to roll
The dice with flair
Chortling both,
Without a care..
So simple
Were those days of fun
Where time stood still….
Yet dice still run!
Those running dice
Across the floor
Now, don’t matter
Anymore.
Dimness
In the morning light
Preempts temptation
To take sight,
For gone the gloss
Tomorrow brings….
Outside, a joyous
Blackbird sings.
M.
13 August 2022
Mists of time, once so vivid, now 5 minutes later, just fade to an inconspicuous fog. But, somewhere, the dice roll on.
