the darkly attuned radio whispering
last chances four
us to speak up.
Green grass
the light notes of an iron-wrought instrumental
and we hum along;
we harmonize the pain just fine.
Green grass
staining the backs of our white shirts.
No complaining now,
we close our eyes and tune in deeper.
A greying frame,
wooden skeleton trough ripped wall-paper violets.
Forget-me-nots have no say, and
the building is abandoned.
for*
ReplyDeleteIt's supposed to say four.
ReplyDeleteFor very specific reasons.
Four, very specific reasons, to be exact.