this life spent

suddenly the light is fading
trumpets serenade the revelers
in the street its as if the
clock had turned to candy and
the seconds seem like sugar burning
among the weeds

and in the harbor
are the vessels; an armada
belonging to the woman's next of kin
the cannons momentarily are silent
through the window the calliope
whistles a funeral tune

is this the story through the evening?
the loss is both sudden and constant
through these years
is this the memory of my honor
finding all these ancient
foot prints across the floor?

still I hear the music
in the foyer
still I see the moonlight
alive upon the sea
somewhere in the world
there is another story
looking for an honest
broker one that's not
as fake as me