by scott from jail

For you, the skies were rolling on their hinge,
The bluest blues which happy light contrives,
The lovliest of glories slightly singed
By fires too deep to ever know our knives -
For you, the clocks were all set in a row
Which, one by one, chimed out the panoply -
Your painted horses, tripping lightly, flow,
Fantastiks of the reverie -
For you, the heavens opened always straight
And into their abysses came the fooled
Whilst we who jar the ever dull complaint
Played martyr to unbroken and unschooled -
  For you the world was one, large swelling game-
  For us, our wars of culture lost, but shame.

Copyright © 2011 - scott from jail
Published: 7/28/11   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem