End of Summer

September 21st is the last day of summer and as the irrelevant day imperceptibly ages, marking a constructed end to a constructed temporal idea, I find myself wondering about endings.

End to be, end to come

End of what was once begun

Gone are things that make me glad,

Following those that made me sad

Never again to see this field

With just enough sunlight to yield

A perfect tone of rose-pink hue

Wished I shared this one with you

Not that I miss you, not one bit

We’re over and done with, I don’t give a shit

All things will end, except this verse

Find a way to hire a hearse

And take it out, plod slowly behind

With bitter beginnings in my mind

A shrill piano now sets the tone

And I find myself again alone

I have my books and my exercise

I cannot escape my own damn eyes

Stale, disbelieving smiling lies



For my demise.

This entry was published on September 27, 2012 at 22:29. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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