Another round

[Jae Mc Donnell]

It’s too much to ask the stars to map the sand;
for the air not to corrode our plans.
So we preamble gen pools,
for sea sick molecules to create fools.
Another tragic symphony,
with hollowed sounds of sympathy;
Ringing like nostalgic chimney chimes
Asking, mind your head as you step into life.
We end as we mean to begin,
our coffin nails already within.
Drawn out by days,
Poignantly pointless, progressively paid.
As another crop fails,
we hear autumn exclaim;
“Please! a kiss for winter, before we begin”