A Fitting Finale
Too late to spit, too glad to swallow, she smiled at it
What's done is done, there is no tomorrow
Only the ambiguous expectations of it
And in our today is laden the universe of sorrow
Let them who wronged her cry now for their loss
From molesting father to rude teacher so unkind
Above all let him who treated her love as but dross
Weep her and unlament his unfaithfulness, his blind
Ego, and his irrevrsible eternal loss
The angels had coming swining low as had heard
The chariots ablaze were for God's last thornbird
Farewell then callous cruel world she said, she said
So and then like a wilted plant bowed her head.
The curtains fall onn the stage of life, the act is done
And the theatre waits now another cycle of the sun.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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