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Lament of a Person Looking In
One fog flushed evening
I cried despondently as I watched them
through the haze of my
hot anguish
as they swayed down
forlornly
limp and lack lustre
pale yellow strips of straw
rocking down ever so gently
like the weakest whimper
from an infant
exhausted from a drawn out wail
all caution
has been surrendered to the wind
ages ago
eons, it seems
since the willowy strips of straw
were bundled together
criss crossed
into a thatched roof
over a frowzy home made of hollow wood
sturdy, it was not
rain often seeping through
the widening gaps between them
but in the youngest part of the morning
as the dew drops set serenely on them
they glistened magically
sparkling in the dawn
as their dreams were reflected in the clear skies
but then,
a persistent rain
a sharp,toothache inducing crack in the dark abyss
bristling fibres in the electric intensity
slipping hands
slippery and slick with a layer
of hardened feelings
'hold on, hold on tight'
'I'm losing my grip on you'
the rain roaring down now
an raging waterfall
cascading, castigating
the little, insignificant strands of straw
scattering
solo
separate entities
floating down
inconsequentially
i caught your sneeze the other day
and wondered if you were thinking the same thing
that we never turned back
to see what had become
of the little hut
under which we drooped our fears, glee and tears, fury, over
all those warm early years.
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