like a guilty child ..bottle broken milk he has spilt ,
memories of lost moments lost
illusions that time killed ..hands that etched
the semblance of artistry highly skilled
now sleeping forever across the yonder hill
the ramshackle house of cards dying
flower in a broken pot on the window sill
they come in cars to buy a handful of
memories ..for a refill..sweet bitter pill
death is a tear rolling down a dead mans
will..coffers that another man fill
