You can axe me
like a lumberjack
You can scythe me
like a reaper
I’m a flower
that lost its charm
as if it shed
a useful arm
I see hope
as dim as candlelight
And in it, my words
flickering like shadows
I rippled in dreams
that were not shallow
But the season came
and my fields went fallow
I am not troubled
that sweat is not stew
That the bird sang
and away it flew
I had the gauntlet
which, at the devil, I threw
It was the devil
who hijacked my crew
And as I state
this hapless fate
I can tell you
that the devil has no clue
That, in the end,
he will have to pay his due
montes-musings.blog 