Cooling sun lowers it’s
April bulk behind the rooftop horizons.
Light will fade, die;
Clouds shift, shiver, sigh,
Spilled hot blood
Cool, congeal
Then dry.
We are the ones out of step,
The ones out of place, here;
We always were:
The dishonourable thieves,
Society wreckers,
Trouble seekers and
Storm brewers.
I appreciate your support. Thanks to your last response, although I’m responding from this post. I’m still in a bit of shock about Prince.
Couldn’t agree more; but we were lucky enough to have known his works and inspiration eh?
Yes, definitely. It also makes me think of the inevitable that all the aging wonders still alive now will eventually die. Obvious, but not on our minds until someone like that dies. Such is the nature of life . . .