he built a castle of roses
and watched it sway in the breeze;
the moonlight would wash
over petals and leaves
on the midnighter's table
next to an empty glass
then he sighed with the wind,
slumped over a letter
like all the works of man
toppled in the end
by nary more than a breath
and a wave of the hand
Thursday, December 06, 2007
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