Poetry Always Lies
The falling leaves aren’t nature’s tears
The pavement’s not a river of molten amber
It’s a mess
Poetry always lies
The wind’s not whipping, it’s just cold
Turning my ears bright red
And making my nose run
It doesn’t run silk fingers through my hair
Or brush my cheek with a ghostly hand
It’s just the wind
Poetry always lies
~~~~~~~~~
© Sab Will 2009