Wearer of shit tinted glasses
He feels the orchards of his age
are beginning to give up
wanting to bear fruit.
Tenebrous dirges
are drowning out
his hearts song.
Gone,the suns hands on his shoulders.
The moons smile for him
really is waning forever.
He sees the promises of life
passing him by
in broken pieces.
What nightmares are gathering
for birth in his mind?
Is that despairs jagged rocks
beckoning the last bastion
of his hope to fall?
___________________________________________
© Stef Wilde Saturday 18th April 2015
<Deleted User> (6895)
Mon 20th Apr 2015 16:25
Steve,as they say,you are as old as the woman you feel!
ooer missis! Harry perhaps JC is having a long lie in.Who could blame him after all miracle working,walking on wild water and lugging a bloomin great cross up a hillside.Not to mention taking orders from five thousand people at once to make sure they all liked bread and fish.Tough titties if they didn't! xx