Monday, December 27, 2010

Evening Count

My life remains coloured,
this season by the tired Sun,
who smiles on party mammals
warming up, merry indeed.

But the gold plated evenings

are not for me, never any more!

I was dragged out of this feast

a fine day, when my uncles
were not watching my back;
for I had a beard, and gloves
to fight, but I never could
punch the thug down and
now I sit in pain as
evenings turn to night and boys,
they laugh for they have
a new morn coming.

Alas, I have only tales of loss,

of those numbered pics in paradise!

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