The Last Straw
Tall and haughty,
Your face sullied in grey and silence
Dawns in the last drop of dusk
And sticks the straw neck out
To an airy dream,
One lost in
Soft melancholies of sparrow flights
How many childish cries
Have landed on your murky greenness,
The narrow surface of lonely grass,
No-one can tell.
You sip the cool Autumn breeze
And you let yourself go gently, dramatically
Shaking the few dewdrops that still
Cling to your slim waist.
You spend this glimpse of life in obscurity,
Unbeknownst to good and evil alike,
And yet a slave of time you die in a whisper,
In a longing for a less lonely graveyard,
Until you are nothing.
Until you are less than nothing.
Rest in the shade of mortality:
Tomorrow you’ll be gone