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.
No comments:
Post a Comment