|This placid, tiring, tedious day
Upon a flattened cardboard stage
Where paper people make their way
Across the surface and off the page
Another day like those before
Where dull brown rivers slowly fan
Across a featureless sulking moor
covering over once fertile land
The things I think and things I feel
Ring hollow shallow weak and feeble
Instead of being alive and real
I am one of the paper people
I remember the stars were burning bright
My mind was filled with heavenly light
The flaming brilliance of every sight
a sensuous joy, a brilliant delight
Misfortune cast me from the sky
Felled by things I thought were true
Abandoned by the will to fly
I fell among these colorless hues.
It ever shall be my wearisome fate
To live among the faceless crowds
that trundle across a paper plate
covered by featureless sepia shrouds
Above this plain the light shines through
I hear Iíll never mount the crest
To greet the warmth that I once knew
Of languid days in peaceful rest
No placid tiring tedious days
© Copyright 2007 Dave Gordon (UN: airlieduo at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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