I awoke to find today
That the paper brought grim news
For it seems art had died

It happened late last night
After months of woeful fighting
Its body could take no more
They found it cold and clammy
With withered hands limp

They carried it to the mortician
Who painted its face so bright
And into a box it went
In a sea of bright flowers and purfume
It lay there as the organ played
And as those pipes trembled
The mourning crowd began to sing

They came from their day jobs
They came with their families
And drew pictures pattered with tears
Into the box the pages went

As art was lowered to the earth
A prayer was said
A poem on faith
And the process was done
Yet as the masses left
I lingered at the mound
And plucked forth a flower for my lapel

For it seemed this most grim occasion
Was nothing of the sort
There lies an empty coffin-
Save for the pictures
The songs
And the sorrows
Which keep inspiration strong

I returned home
Sat down in a comfortable chair
And waited for art to die again



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s