A Final Act

Preening to an eye ache,
he searched for meaning abound,
in my acts that lay around,
all scattered and in shambles,
I had strewn his home and hearth,
after blasting it to smithreens,
I remember the scorch that I had lit,
in his poor thatched bit,
which had everything eaten,
and leaving all only ashen,
I had evn lost,
what I could have got,
this man was without address,
and had no redress,
I had killed a life,
though it could have lived with some strife.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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