decay

bookshelves sag wearily
under the weight of a hundred
unread volumes

curtains dance wistfully
to the rhythm of a humid
summer breeze

mattresses slope gently
two indentations represent
sleepless nights

a faucet drips steadily
staining a ceramic basin
of generations

houses creak mournfully
yearning for a peal of laughter
from days gone by

weeds flourish happily
infiltrating every crack and crevice
of neglected pavement

trees rustle cautiously
fearful of waking the beasts
that spell certain doom

neighborhoods wither pathetically
decaying from a hundred cancers
that eat from within

cities crumble slowly
the earth swallows more pieces
every day

fields yield misery
resources all used up by
selfish creatures

a world is reclaimed by nature
after our natural demise
surprise surprise

we never did set things right



Revisiting me: Inspired by, Part III