A.G.E's Joint

The tears of a clown Are all that is left Of a gift given Only to be left fallow. Were you afraid? Did the lust of a fling Make you feel so damaged You couldn't return? Fifty years Since you took up brush and oil. Or the chisel Or even the crochet needle. Years spent chasing money And false affection. Men who cheated you And those you cheated. Now it is over Found alone in a high rise. With your hoarded belongings Your only friends.   Photo (c) Christopher H.Mitchell 2014 Painting (c) Marilyn E Mitchell 1964