Cupid's Lamentation
Here in this dark basement
The ever so efficient, circulating climate control
Pushes these torpid thoughts back into my mind,
Ideas long erased from the temporal
Short term of memory.
With ghost that haunt the night,
Alone again underground.
I put in my overtime hours,
Well past the required
Cutting and sewing, seeking,
Unrelenting,
Until my frustration cripples my perseverance,
But only temporarily.
I flop each over, lifeless and cold.
Long since dead,
Natural causes, of course.
I search for ailment,
Administer the proposed subsequent resolution.
Only a beginner, I know
The problems, those killers,
I know how they treat them, a natural.
If only I had come quicker, or even
Knew what I know tomorrow…
Tonight with a bakers' dozen,
Odd numbers to the even discrimination,
An extra effort might save them all.
My expertise is rounded beyond my years, my experiences;
I have a gift that necessitates an action:
To try. To succeed.
To bring these lost causes to life,
Back from perdition, into the light.
To prove my worth, my skill
To the others I have lost before,
Still peering over my shoulder.
A penance to the failures.
If not tonight, and Lazarus stay asleep
Then I shall work steadfast,
Until my talent confirmed.
Godspeed.