07-07-2011, 02:32 PM
Odin-esque feathers, decrepit of vision and liquor.
Always on the outs with another floozy bird turned
grey. I don't recall the night this week, only street-
lights aglow with reflections. The elderly passing,
seemingly weightless together, twined, heart in hand
as they slow to a brisk step or two. And the teens,
the weathered years. They always seem to change
so quickly, mostly for the worst, but there's always
better. Somewhere. They, heart in pocket, hand in
hand, run to where they're going. The unheard of.
That place.
Always on the outs with another floozy bird turned
grey. I don't recall the night this week, only street-
lights aglow with reflections. The elderly passing,
seemingly weightless together, twined, heart in hand
as they slow to a brisk step or two. And the teens,
the weathered years. They always seem to change
so quickly, mostly for the worst, but there's always
better. Somewhere. They, heart in pocket, hand in
hand, run to where they're going. The unheard of.
That place.