Futile Intentions Crawl Naked
Futile intentions crawl naked across the lawn.
Words well mended going, going gone.
Lamentations crash hard like a falling rain.
Hearts remain suspended; subject to change.
Naysayers’ cumulative laughter gathers at the pauper’s grave.
Garments sewn from truth now lie rent on principles once gave.
Demagogues rule from haughty rhetoric’s gilded throne.
Words expire as futile intentions crawl naked and alone.
J. Allen Wilson © 2007
.ness.
Love,
Susan
blessin's
cynth'ya