A tall brick wall, too high to climb safely
Was constructed by some errant mason
Between my thoughts and my memories
One Autumn slumber
When hard-pressed by the getting and spending
I lost touch with my recent past
And could not lay claim to my self again.
Thus, life became fragile,
A tattered tapestry
Hung in a darkened ante-chamber,
So close, yet the doorway
Slowly bricked up like that of Poe's victim,
Bereft of the promises
And that last sweet taste of Amontillado.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment