on the surface of a hush.
Trails of the morning tide
seeping into sand inside
the caves that lingered by the lonely sea.
Lost by fate of humankind's engorged hypocrisy.
Sweating out the setting sun
while all their youth was on the run.
Crying as she smiled secretly.
Anonymous, the great atrocities
of shells they held within the swells
of nothing more than popularity.
The differences became minute
as hours dragged through ugly moods
infected by congestive heart disease.
Playing parts to try to please
an audience that never showed.
The loneliness became a glowing gold.
Lost on the horizon of a yearning ever rising.
If only one great meaning could be held.
Through the throngs of traffic
music clashes with itself.
Upon the hill, the golden bell is stilled.
Their god was lost. They paid the cost
in mansions sliding swiftly down the cliffs.
A riptide that they really couldn't miss.
Unstoppable and utterly destructive.
It ran through waves of deity's instruction.
There, beneath the words, the feel
of real was dying. Life congealed.
The coming crash could never be avoided.
For it was gliding on the surface of a hush.
While trails of the mourning tides
were seeping into sands inside
lost souls that lingered by the lonely sea...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2006 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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