Long have I waited beside still waters
Withered by the years, the silent tears
Fall like gentle raindrops amid the summer sun
Hollowed how am I humbled
Weathered by storm
No Meade to mend
No bow to bend
On barren soil I stand barefoot
How small am I beneath the sky
Sometimes I think, but to wonder why
My withered hand before my eyes
My tired limbs and withered bones
No place to rest to call my own
For long are the days and cold are the nights
Beneath the seed of these city lights
Like gentle rain, a simple man
Within my wake, for here I stand
As the crimson leaves of bottle brown
Fall around me upon the ground
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
