Ink Idle

When time stops yet flies

Merry leaves go whistling by

Minuscule barns and the night

Moon mist from mystique skies

When we wish our lives were so,

Wasted dreams we ponder

Left, right – nowhere to go,

In pouring rain and thunder

When the forests shriek our name

And we have no answer

Guilt ridden and gliding on a flame

Solemn rhymes of a dancer

When halcyon tunes from clouds ring

And we look up and sigh

Loved souls from the ethereal sing

And plead us to come by

When time flies but the chimes cease

Look around and smirk

For now is not to be at ease

But rid your soul of murk

And when death has you sighted

Look him in the eye

As if you were not a trifle slighted,

“Master of my life is I”.

That’s the way to go down, my lad

A little game with death

Light a flame and tarry not a tad

A furtive affair with death.