Patience of the bystander

As you sit in guard of exuberant life now so inert,
On a dilapidated wood of thought, a seat so inept,
White and grey feathers flutter so tired and quiet,
On the sill of some brittle hope, now in retreat,
Walls white, yet shaded shabby with yester year’s soot,
Bricked in historic mud, now blood red,replete with dust,
Soiled by time so cold,sad, rattled by creaky railings unkempt,
Dread of every passing day, an intolerant air bed, sore, in slight,
You fend off every onslaught of a rude threat,
Ward off evil visit of spirit, winged bat in flight ,
You stare in your deaf anger and the intruders flee,
Yet it is never a moment to celebrate in dried glee,
For fear that them traitors, vampires might return,
Dead of night so chilly ,heavy, benumbing in every turn,
Until morn you resolutely smile, hum through the yells,
Sleep now staring hard, drifts so brutal as resists stalls
Silence, void of nurse who left desolate,
It is just that optimist’s grit.


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