"A Flattened Bagel"
Wine flows.
Crescents moon glows.
A sun shows.
In winter snow.
Winds blow.
Lights turn dim and low.
You've gotten old.
Its turned cold.
Stories I've been told.
That will never be sold.
Except in my retirement bed.
Where nothing is ever said.
Except to the dead.
Wish it was spoken to the living instead.
Life is a darker red.
A med will get me out of my feverish head.
God will keep me well fed.
By Jonathan Billet
-02/06/2015-Dedicated To Brother Randy
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