The dam will not hold

with the multiplicity 

of your manmade cracks 

Click clack as fingers 

punch the keys looking for words

that tell a story 

The party is done

and the music stilled, still you

can hear an echo 

A parade rolls by 

a thousand miles away, but 

here only dull sky 

Bereft of tethers 

to hold fast the world's longing

fly free towards the sun 

A broken branch hangs

tenuously high above 

like Damocles' sword 

A jacket patched, worn,

and sun faded still gives its

wearer succor, warmth