yELLOWBRICK  iNSTITUTION
 

rain sheets clothe the bare trees
hiding their upheld arms
in silent pleas
for a sun that won't shine;
where misty seas of wind
sway thick limbs misshapen
sodden leaves swirling
on the ground forsaken:
a careless carpet of spring ideals.

a glimpse -no more-,
of iridescent bluesky;
a freedom reflected
off reflected glass,
unreachable in its transparence;
yet its promise is more real
than the dark trees
stark of leaves
living shivering cold
against the yellowbrick 
institution ...
                                                                      Life 
used to be spring
but fell into clay;
Alice come home
to your wonderland grey!
 
 

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lith0s
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