Poet To Cynic
Purple hue of sunsets, timeless laughter, moments
Of love and passion and yet more could I write.
Emotions worn like fresh laundry, vulnerable
To the stains of life, so readily soiled.
Time - Thief! - steals passion's fire
Or at least the needed magic words
Continuous sensory assaults
Yield an unwitting change
Naught or less of poet
I wear the garb of
Cynic