HOLD SWAY
The many tools I had
are everything but gone
Rusty in their mildew,
even the slightly worn.
Generators and starters,
repaired, outdated, kept,
Piled under the fetters
that years away adept.
The furniture from Ruby,
those the evangelist bequest,
Piled upon each other,
all ours, for memories best.
The roof above is leaking,
and termites have begun
To eat also the marrow,
my patience from the bone.
May time help me repair things,
at seventy my frame
Is everything but spry,
so is the money game.
It hurts so much to see this,
to brave that I was born,
To save another fetter,
now rusting and forlorn.
by Eleazar Cirilo, n.d.
All works here, Copyright © Lotus D. Cirilo, 1999
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