Poems ✍️

Withering, 'neath the eye of the flame in the sky;
aesthetically pleasing to the gals walking by-
young boy winks; say's lifes' a sweet wine.

The addiction takes logic and reason away,
and you wonder if the gold was worth every shade-
this carafe of warm soured Carbernet.

Some came to pay their respects, say goodbye,
such a price he paid for a trade with the Eye
of the Sun, with his Life for a sip of vanity;
sleeps now in a sealed box of mahogany.



FjR-MMXVII



~FjR~
MMXVI