A Rolling Stone, I

 

 

As I roll, a moss less stone through the days of my life,

Surmounting storms and sailing through strife,

And turning the enriching leaves of wisdom gained,

I ever long a foe or friend with permanence ordained…

 

True to his word, he sought vengeance with might,

But it was his absence that caused me the plight,

The table was set and hatred served aplenty,

I waited in vain, feigning disquieting dainty…

 

Then there was the time when he was bosom,

Ambitious, nay Delirious designs, with joys at ransom,

Sudden proclivities giving way to games played with a poker face,

And his sudden departure without notice or trace…

 

When pale and wanton, though thrill full came death,

With ascending wisdom, and my last breath,

I grasped the misery of a solitary grave,

Without friends to mourn, or foes to hate…

 

What was salvaged in the lakes of learning,

Was lost in empty bouts of social yearning,

With a sponge for a soul, and a vagabond at heart,

I had no time to devote, nor love to pour, only cynicism to part…

 

So rests the pen, till we meet again…