The Palace

In a world less ordinary would the stars still shine, milk and honey drip from the vine? would clouds appear and drift on by, give break to azure from the sky? Would sea spray ruffle linen dress, send children reeling, soaking wet, let lovers kiss and holding hands, touch their hearts and see the land. This old and ordinary place a palace grand a special grace. The stars of men they do not shine those pale reflections lost with time. All the acts that men can do need night to cover, the sooty hue even night cannot erase the peal of siren copper chase. Villains Hyde like, Jekyll's heirs lounge in leather easy chairs Stroking salve into their wounds make up artists paint cartoons faces plastered, stretched, pulled back mask the fissures time did track like rows for seeds love and care iced over smooth no growth is theirs What eternal patience waits to trap the mice from out this place to sweep the dust from under rug release the waters bring back the flood to wash it clean this palace floor refit for life and love and more.