The days pass by like daggers in the breeze
while nights sink low into the muddy ground
caressed by deer that stalk without a sound
at dawn to eat the leaves that hang from trees.
The sidewalks look yellow and time does freeze
under the street lights as your thoughts rebound
against your mind’s edge like ships run aground
only to slip back towards unconscious seas.
You see the waves drown you: shadows of leaves
on swaying branches, black against yellow
on top of gray concrete, on countless eves.
As you edge home clueless, your talent grieves
your murder by time. A neighbor’s cello
pours its dirge from a house with rotten eaves.