White linen upon mattress pressed
Colored brown in ages spent
Creases folds spoil the weave
While a man lay in prose of death
Autumn in trees he sees is set
Golden brown the light is made
The warning of coming craze
To which he might be spent
The fallen light idle up the headboard
Leaning it strayed to wait on the wall
The silent keeper of darkening days
To which heat would but expunge
Trestle brown to corner cover
The gear to which he be plugged
Blink & beep rent the prone still
Keeping him to loud for another spell
His eyes to left make it to the Trellising
On which perched a dainty vine
Twined to nest beside the window pane
Boasting the nesting white breasts eggs
Near some shells broken remain
Sadly the whole, to date did not make
Eggs doomed like him they stay
To meet the womb of coming death
Say for instance hand of time winds back
To a quarter a decade from today
The scene of today could have changed
If not a helping hand to one had he rendered
Was a man in shoes of peak form thence
Tanned limbs toned to the knot
Ligaments wound muscles strong
Crops of silky hair in wax combed
Till just pass a forth night of that day
Planes were his to be wed a dame
His highschool sweet heart and life
Into whom he hath spent his manhoods' past
But alas the work of fate turned the tide
Till the sun on him did fade
Whence he slipped on gravel fine
As he ran and saved road kill of a child
The child, of him a debt did keep
As even now she sat holding his hand
Dews of sorrow flowering in her eyes
As her rosy cheeks of them be wet
Down to her waist slim her plait end
The braided brown hair fondly held
By a scarf of heliotrope flower on white silk
Laced with fuchsia outlined with black
All but her, they have left his side
Even the love he hath had before
The unfortunate kiss of fate
That brought to bed him till this day
The air is stale and crispy cold
Her breath in vapor glowed
In the neon bulb on ceiling low
Tiled with cheap papers faded
The chair on which the damsel is rest
Brown and eaten with moths of age
Weak to shoulder even her frame
Broken at the hands of sorrows evil test
Stand it does to the right of the bed
Closed to the window, setting sun lit
Coated with shadows to corners bled
When in spasmodic sobs she submit
To follow through to let him leave
Into the arms of this night hungered
Out of these arms of liberal grieve
For enough was he in pain aspired
Close of switch a smile for first formed
Last breath in deep was his swallow
In years his skeletal jaw reformed
To peace and relieves comforting hollow
Thence he embraced peace he hath craved
And the damsel felt the light in his eye seep
Seep away slow and fine as he hath asked
Begged of her, she a pillow to his face pressed