Wither

The papers are handed

out. Lips flap as everyone

speaks. Too much going on at

once. Not enough happening.

People walking up and down

aisles. Some limp, some

linger. No one wants to

really help out.

Not now. Too much to do.

We’re busy. Not us.

We won’t help you.

Pass out your own papers.

Old mixes with new. No

one cares about the old

anymore. The new is all

that’s important.

It’s a real shame.

The new will eventually

wither.

ShadowSpirit ‘05