False Hope

Acorn hubs on ground

To be dealt so glibly with
Not once, but twice
and more, as if …
The promises and praise before
meant nothing,
as he closed the door.

A solemn thought grows tense upon my shoulder;
My soul knows more than senses, now it’s older;
The question in the balance waits the date:
The balance swinging heavy with my fate.

He clings to the teetering arm
of a pendulum of his own device;
his easy voice and casual charm
ripple atop the murky depth
of a 
deception
whose origins and audience
are unknown
even to 
himself.

7/12/2013

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s