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Close The Door...
Close the door and turn the key
The past will never cease to be
Memories will hover in recesses
Until the world digresses
And even then, the stench will linger
With someone else to point the finger
Imbibed with potent remedies
The burden will appear to ease
In an illusionary haze
Just an ever-moving, fleeting phase
Of resplendent pleasure
A dose of which cannot be measured
With medicine to quell the taste
THe most striking of this piece is the rhymes.
Great choice of words, lady ~
Particularly the second stanza.
Smilesz... skilful and wonderful sense of flow ~
And once again, the hinting darkness of your muse shows in this work - the idea that there will always be someone to point a blaming finger, but then there will always be good medicine against such ailments.
:)
THoughful words of yours. ~