Friday, September 19, 2008

Antique Horns

Painfully aware
of the loss of the bloom.
Bewildered, beware
the size of the room
and a sneaking suspicion
about the price of my stock
and my tenuous position
as a decaying dock
where less ships will moor
less cargo be stored
fewer trips will be taken
the decks ignored
and the price of a cruise
slips out of reach
where there's nothing familiar
at the bar or the beach
but the smell of an old dollar bill...

I will arrive
grown old
my sleek yacht sold
and replaced with
planks
and oars.

I have arrived
as old
still no one's cuckold
and replaced with
pranks
and boors.

3 comments:

ms.e said...

well written. i always learn from your use of dimensions with words. they can change from day to day. it's a terrific quality to possess, inducing readers with the desire to return again and again to your musings...

S.L. Corsua said...

Ditto to what the first commenter said. ;) I've been gone several months and I come back here to find you rhyming within form. Ahh, where have I been?! ;) I really should catch up. The present piece is so enjoyable to read I dare say it's yummy. ;) It also has the tap-tap beat of a limerick, which always makes me grin. So thank you. Cheers, dear.

KGT (aka Cagey) said...

ms. e. Thanks. Flattery will get you...somewhere. :)

s.l. corsue (soulless) Missed you. Both here and at Unguarded Utterance. Glad your back.