we've hit our
twelfth hour,
the milk will go sour
in twelve or so more.
no matter how you dice it,
drawn and quartered,
the horses still bray and the eggs
are in order,
off to the food-mart to go
get a life,
into the oven at the edge of a knife.
that's not what i mean.
i mean you're going away
whether i like it or not,
petty fights will fade or else rot,
and what's left?
a digital echo,
in a digital sea.
i'm left with your musical legacy
your faded words
your song
your scent
your family
your books (our book, too),
your promises.
so turn, friend, turn.
in one short year,
what can i learn?
3 comments:
i like this.
i want to ask you, however, have you ever noticed that most of your poems include a lot of allusions to food?
not that that is bad. i was just wondering if you'd realized.
THRICE REFERENCE <33333
p.s. sadface :<
you can learn lots.
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