~~Last Painting~~

The image
Is blurred
With
The veil
Of
Age;
The shroud
Of antiquity
Hangs
Heavy
In
His eyes.
Dust
Lends
White
A greyed
Pallor,
And shadows
Cast
By that
Flickering
Lamp
Give
The Reaper
A
Deathly
Look.
Cobwebs
Across
His hair-
Black
Becomes
Dirty silver,
While
Unblinking
Ice
All these ages
Dulls
From
Exposure
To light.
The memory
Is
By far
Stronger,
Though,
And still
His voice
Echoes here,
Bitter
Laughter
In
These broken
Halls
Long after
The acrylic
Smirk
Falls
From his face:
The mad
Heart
Remembers
All forgotten
By
One
Last
Painting.


(c)6/00 The Mad Poet (A.K.LaBelle)