Sonnet 1

The stiff grey Sky hanging heavy like lead.

Choking smoke it rises, and birds they squawk,

The Destroyers they stir, and begin to talk.

About buildings and news and new pairs of shoes

That the olds have holes and god bless our souls

And that the chairman is right and with all might

We'll bust'em we'll break'em we'll fight! fight! fight!

So the Wheel rolls, inexorable, to doom.

An old woman sits weeping, alone in her room.

Then slowly takes up needle, thimble, and thread,

Gazing out at the Sky, hanging heavy like lead.

But the coffee it cries, and the Cat she mews,

There's nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

Robert T. Tuohey
jadedragon61@hotmail.com
http://jadedragon.250x.com/welcome.htm