BY DR. AGONSON
Dreams in the dream house,
and nights in the day;
wonders by moonlight,
and I want to play.
Silence is sour,
but everything’s gold;
I heard you sing,
but I wasn’t bold.
Everything’s dying
soon as its born,
and I’m not lying:
I’m feeling all worn.
Here in the words of the poet I cry,
knowing the time has come for goodbye.
Still there’s a glimmer of light in my eye,
for I’m gazing ahead, up into the sky.
Tale Told 