Joy Left: A Little Early

Lights wink on the hill spot
Beyond the dim bus depot,
Flats in each slot,
In nameless knot.

I now climb alone:
Mournful stairs.

I See
Sepulchral cross,
Dust laden corners,
Draped white in thick incense,
Sad sorrows on every alphabet.

I Sense
Pale and lanky thoughts
Like Joy’s bloodless fingers,
Outstretched, unheld, closed.

I Hear
Anonymous wails unheard,
Each crescendo to a mournful loft
Advance only to retreat.
Steps as he walked on his lagoon
Water walls cracked to uncanny moan

Joy, my friend
You could have waited.


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