Friday, August 16, 2013


It feels yellow in this room
A strong but sickly glow
That almost gives off the perfume
Of the gray of coming days
With shrunken sunlight's feeble rays
Casting a bluer shadow.
An old man, struggling along
With cane in hand
Whose mission was to run along
The broken land
With light and love and health;
So much for summer's wealth.
We're falling apart too soon
With breaking hips, and lips, and hearts.
It feels yellow in this room.

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