Final Blast of Contentment

Papers everywhere with words of deception Casting out the times own torrent Lifting off the eaves of secured gates Obviously written so long ago Fine comb--untangles our misery Leaving money outside the door Nothing is quite as free as usual Now we eat what has been given before Watch our poignant eyes defeat Words do carry where the heart imitates Left our devices to our own heels Lost within the wind of long ago Now lifting, heightening timepieces Above our heads they become more real Money isn’t about what’s left over But rather--the final blast of contentment Russell Sivey