A broom cries, its cries dust and the trust is presented to an unworthy soul, stars forgotten in the Ferris wheel night.
Ignore warnings, from the fire alarm, it was set off by a boy with no hope, his excuses fluttered from his back pocket on folded paper.
Archery took up, by your granddaughter, he was shorter than her not in size, his demise stemmed from aim, shame on the lips of his mother.
He bunked off the afternoon to go and talk nostalgia with his brother,
he thought he'd dance in his garden but the boy was lacking a lover,
so he lay naked, naked as the day he was born on his bathroom floor for five hours,
staring at the ceiling, wanting to fly away.
The old man, mistook his time for the landings in an egg cup he lay in shards of soap whilst the young nurse, tended to his precious time.
A till leaked under the arm of the sprinter, a splinter, retired the carpenter, revolution hunger solved with a restaurant bill.

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