Jason

a moody monday
colors grey the other six.
sad is the palette.

the tribulations are trials
i travel for miles and miles.

the tripping up and the falling down
the lack of laughter the continuing frown.

the holes in my shoes
the soundtrack a lamentation of old style blues.

my well meaning friend with posters of hope
keep your chin up when i’m at the end of my rope.

the glaring sun an angry eye
the dark cold moon and the wolf’s howling cry.

the blistered and bleeding fingers
where the fire burnt the pain still lingers.

the hopeful soul now a flagging spirit
the circling crows and the hungry gizzard.

my joy ground down to a mealy powder
my voice still angry and yelling louder.

and the whisper of an echo bouncing back
but i cannot let go of this spindly track.

i will not drown with you on my rear
i will not fear though the end be near.

for there are miles yet still to be won
even though my life sees the setting sun.