Fiasco
Flawless pools of lotion with a proof twenty-three,
Make no impact when applied on skin that’s exposed:
It invites freckled stains on face, belly, and knees;
And bleaches the peach fuzz that tickles arms and toes.
A sparkling-new tee-shirt, colorless and clever
When hit with a shaft of light, is most likely bound
To define hints of dirt and unclean whatevers,
That compliment sticky secrets lurking around.
Like an exploding sneeze from distant clouds above,
Fate creates disasters out of chocolate-box plans;
Until there’s no more polished moments to dream of,
Nothing left worth saving in the palm of your hand.
Stars will have no purpose, your hopes will have no point.
And every rhymed verse will disappointedly break.
Copyright © 2009 N.E. Tasker
