poem 172

Now to turn 

and stair at the sun 

While a child laughing 

runs through a puddle

Tomorrow is hung

upon a story, just retold 

While rain drops fall

each one in grace, given 

Friends embrace 

as lovers trace shadows

While a ripple 

floods over, all that's built

Cold consumes 

more brokens minds

While the rich man

drowns in champion, again