The Sad Time

No fine lady has given me the Green Light since then

To call her on her Coral colored phone again

I wallow in Sour Grapes each February

In the snow I ruefully moan again.

Life is now one huge Arboretum

With trees turned to stone again.

One ominous alb~colored Blizzard

Where all is dark and alone again.

A cadaverous Aura lies still

All mankind is windblown again.

Now I dream of a Primrose Path

Where my mind will have flown again.

2 thoughts on “The Sad Time

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