Saturday, July 01, 2017

Old Stoneface

Trying to glimpse at a hint of reflection 
From smoky gray eyes is impossible. 
Like playing poker with Old Stoneface 
When the stakes on the table are do or die.

No reason why you should hide in your mask, 
Sweating the task of incumbent relief, 
Mystical thief of presumed confidence, 
You bait me, and I take your delicate hook.

Your crown of bamboozlement tilts to the right, 
And I am left sporting the court jester’s hat. 
No surprise that when the cards are revealed 
My fate is sealed and the rent money’s lost.

Such is the cost of a gambler’s trade, 
Hope dashed to pieces more often than not. 
Lessons forgotten or never quite learned, 
Betrayed by a face made of stone.

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