Suddenly changing flight of birds

Accepted years full of false words

Futile as the combat with blunt swords

In silver armor of ancient lords.

Further wondering shoes

Chipped away by the weather

Players of true calling gather

To watch you resonant act and dabber.

Solitary rose in a vase lingers

Dry against the bouquet of posies

Plucked once from forbidden garden

Left behind for the empty singer.

 Sunlight beams through the window

Oak trees stir in desolation…

 Neon flames flicker with intensity

In a darkroom of the quiet city

Radiating heat they warm the skin

Leaving orange glow upon the hardwood floor

I sit in tormented solitude

Waiting to be rescued by the sound

But the timbers in the fireplace

Sing a jolly and rhythmic tune

Last year I was a hopeless romantic

This year I’m a solitary loner

Next year I’ll fly with the birds.