Yeah... I think he'll come around though.

Wipe the frown and make it distant.

Laugh into the wind. Sing.

Sing away. Turn and sway.

Take one last look at this house.

Dilapidated -  Breathing through the floor holes.

Decimated -  Chimney slated to steal its last breath

Through that crumbling blow hole.

Yeah... he waves goodbye and lets the old thing stumble down.

Walls that fall to the ground and make no sound.

Picks up an orange on the way.

Slightly rotten --

Darkened spots with taste forgotten.

Still, though, spotted bright, with certain hope.

Quite convinced if he peels it something will come to fruition.

Shedding the skin so that this poor fruit may be free again.

That old orange tree... still stands

On whimpering land.

Leaf speeds off like a bitter snail.

Fighting its way to the ground.

Guided by a rail

Invisibly profound.

Taking right turn here.

Flipping face up to the sun one last time.

Laughing.  Yes... They've had their fun.

Floating laggardly now to the ground.

Leaves that fall off...

Steps that indicate how these old roots may crawl off

Into abyssal soil and rock.

I wouldn't mind giving it the old call off.

Make it stop.

Preserve its wondrous beauty

That acts as my own eyedrop

When I am blind from falling steps behind.

But no... take your course today.

In say, three years, I'll come around again

And partake in your final decay

With different eyes.

I will be a 'something else' by then.

Onward mission --

Footsteps cause sweet collision

With the grass.  So on at last

I can move.

Cured paralysis.

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