Thank God, the Sun finally fell,
And my grass is all hay, as far as I can tell.
And, she has remarried, well done, well-played;
While I return to my room and its old bed, unmade.
How to escape these grayer ill-jointed days
As we reap the errors of our less-traveled stupid ways—
Find a job, see the doctors, count to ten.
You are right, you’ll never touch her again.
Mercury pauses up past one hundred and two;
Horrible news arrived from the Audubon Zoo;
A jaguar slipped her man-made enclosure;
Happily-ever-after looks very far from sure.
This Heatwave is here for another fortnight.
Wear your sunscreen, hold onto fantasies tight.
Pay the right bills, sell the rest of the stock.
O to have mystick time like from Ashland’s clock.
Weather well, all ye Christians, thru this Austin heatwave.
Gather fresh chrysanthemums for this Land of the Brave.
Posted on July 18, 2018, in Poem and tagged 100 degree days, Ashland VA Station Clock, Audubon Zoo (New Orleans), burnt grass, Christians, chrysanthemums, fantasy, find work, fortnight, happily-ever-after, hay, heat, heatwave, ills, jaguar, lost love, lost time, mercury in thermometers, old age, pay bills, sell stock, sunscreen, The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost), unmade bed, wasted life. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.