The chance

All there was a chance driving her mad

whether to choose wine or a hemlock

was all she could consider in a moment’s

respite at the altar of Juno, the merciful Goddess

The roses sparingly left with a purpose  on the altar

and a hankerchief to wipe the brow with a heart for the summer

the sweat telling time and days at hour why love is a flower?

And the boom of lillies litter the street and She holds

the dynamic feet from tumbling over the waves as if to unfold

the love for casino and call it a meek renewal of time

to loose fortune over the dance of dice and call the God

a lame man who would induce all the fame of mime

and now on the ocean where nothing preserves but tide

she gave herself to the vastness of pouring water and chance

to finally sort out her life!





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