You always carried
on your shoulder
the weight of the storm
as it got colder
and the icy chill
that sent me reeling
bored you still
as if you had no feeling
and I see you now
walk in the room
the little cherubs
like ironic doom
follow at your heels
strum their lyres
those pretty things
with their own desires
Oh, how the violins
they whine and sing
to herald your
coming in
and set the tone
that I've never known
but held on to just the same
And had you any
understanding
you'd recognize
my wingless landing
so permanently
I'll be here still
but I'm indefinitely
at your will
and disposal
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