Pension

Toadies tempting, soft-shoe to midnight
Wishing me to wander ever hungry
In spite of where they lead me

Banshees cry sounding sentry for the wanton
Beseeching private envy of the wicked
Craving accumulated tawdry tinsel

Leaden boots plod distant paths for ancients
Reminded endings of justified means
Where Lords laid down Kingdoms

The light so bright with lids sown shut to anger
And lust as rejections purse denied
Promised golden as moonbeams

Delighted not in days dancing toward our presence
Dreams of fabled chariots maids not lie
Songs sweet abide merciful justice

Hands of strength lift my lonely carcass
Soul abandoned naught mere frame
Cradled by Master of Makery

All Rights Reserved to James Martin Cox