I Swallow What’s Mine

I Swallow What’s Mine

Black days crawl

Sunshine is small

Weeks on end we make nothing good

Afford one more trip

I tried not to slip

But I can’t always do what I should

And I fly into a rotten

Warm piece of fruit

The other flies look angry at what I intend to loot

But I swallow what’s mine

For the time I will bide

And take a last look around for the ride

I pay my due

Weak smile from you

And I shuffle my feet out the door

Nothing but drained

Catch the midnight train

But you know I’ll be back for more

© 8/1/1997, William Grant Preston

Grant's Rants - Poetry