Idle Days

The opiates add a wonderful stagnation
To idle days beside trickling water
The stucco refracted the sun
Upon your hair the color of corn
To which i can only speculate now
Magic, cover the ground like pollen and shrivel in the heat
So it seemed then there was substance
Substance, yes, for it was not off love we were drunk
Trinkets and curled photographs exist only
To summon the fact it did happen
For happiness plays parlour tricks on unwitting souls

Twas less than a fling
Or a passing thing
So why must it sting
With the coins of failure clinking
A somber tone upon fresh cane in the summer time
If sense could be made perhaps a future
Or perhaps a vision of a jaded past
Choked by the idle days to which no fancy can be attributed
But rather a travesty retold
The only story i know

Idle Days

ragabond

Atlanta, United States

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