Transcription
No Days
By Timothy J. Muise
There are no days of wine and roses for us
only concrete and steel mixed with blood
No field of azure green rolling ahead
only broken asphalt tread with worn sole
Autumn brings no vivid colors to our sight
only gray and grayer visions of despair
No leaves fall for the raking and burn
only tears falling down the cheeks of our lives
Apples will not be harvested in our orchards
only seeds of sour discontent and depression
No fairs or markets will sell goods here
only spirals of hatred and foreboding
No days of wine and roses for us
only hours of pain and regret
No blue skies of fall so bright
only clouds ever so dark and low
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The Garment
By Timothy J. Muise
Flash of pink, subtle and smooth
quickly I take in her shape
This garment I remember from another time
my memory can feel its soft contour
My pulse proves I am still alive
her hip is more than I can take
Another flash and my heart is still
my death is abrupt and satisfying
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Gypsy