The Last Game of Chance
By Peter Scott
Slashing certain barriers
Caused a chain reaction
Sent feathers spiraling
Down a chute
Where few know the present
Yesterday is tomorrow...
But what of today?
As feathers collect
There is no blockade
Moods wander
To and fro
Any second bliss
Any moment chaos
Infectious
The foundation was not meant
To touch the walls
Crumble upon contact
Real infestation warned
They just could not listen
Took a minor crack
Never came back
Left me alone
Ad infinitum...
