Slowly the hand pierces the clouds

it grabs the joys of my youth

in it’s swollen fingers with a sudden snatch

squeezing the tiny slice of remaining life left

with absolute contempt for my feelings

 

Alone I stare at the wreckage

broken toys litter the landscape

My memories appear and wander slowly to and fro

they survey the carnage

a few lost hopes and dreams stare at the sky

as the hand disappears once again into the clouds

 

a fly circles my head and I become aware of the repetitive buzzing

louder and louder it voices it’s anger

with weary eyes I watch as the clock

bounces off the bedroom wall