by MJ Horsten
I wrote this poem for my gaming group, and how important they were for my mental health.
|Here lies the poet of the streets, writing
About the mundane hour when work begins.
The average person drives in tears, reciting
Cliché mantras. But someone must take out the bins
And wash the dishes from those silent meals,
And take the children to the doctor’s place
Where thankless work is done. Duty conceals
Those moments that reveal our forfeiting of grace.
But come the setting of the sun, twilight
And the great hour where friends will gather round
And talk of life and love -- and all will be alright!
It won’t. But laughter warms that dreaded sound;
And while the world is crashing down, remember
The coming beauty of a kind December.