Standing

Several weeks now have past

and troubles met and served up, last

like ham sandwiches and potato salad, cold;

you shudder to meet even one so bold.

They stare you down like cheetah with prey

and meet with eyes worn, disheveled and grey.

They pierce and stab, thrust and joust

your long-stem soul now sold, like Faust.

Perchance to seek, to try, to reach

for God knows what, these things, rare, teach

the lessons, ill-gained, that bring us round

to find once more our feet on the ground.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s