When the sun has yawned
and finally vanished beyond those hills
where we played when we were young
and the stars spread lies
gossiping like nosy little hens
laughing behind twinkling palms
and the minutes are accused of being thieves
and the hours chuckle softly at the injustice of it all
and the days have taken to popping pills to dull the pain
When the walls sigh with boredom
settling into themselves
preparing for another long night of watching others dream
and we lay quietly
breathing secrets in our sleep...
This is when Fate sits down with a tattered old notebook,
clears his throat, rubs his eyes,
bites his lip, and rewrites history.
Comments
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Oh, wow, I really enjoy your thoughts... very interesting words... I like it when I know a poem is going to linger with me... well done
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