A candle flame flickering dimly,
incapable of illuminating such vast space.
Numerous, leaping crickets chirping loudly,
Perhaps engaged in some competitive race.
the icy-cold breeze wafts in through the stained, cracked louvre,
Oh, what chill that sends down my spine.
What are the odds it lasts forever?
this sensation can only be divine.
Highly positive and wild dreams,
Every shut-eye seems to bring.
A man wanders about in his mind,
in thought about his place among creations of his kind.
Shall an end come to this impoverished life?
Or does that only manifest in the after-life?
A forced snap out of these private thoughts,
due to an unwelcome, foul stench in the air.
Of a plumbing fix, the septic lies badly in want,
evidencing an obvious lack of proper care.
Patience, men say is a virtue
but when shall these wild dreams come true?
Well done 👍