Author Information
Its Ugly Hand
Folder:
2010 Poetry
A dirty old bottle sits on the ground,
as an old park bench dilapidates.
Its metal turning to a deep orange
as oxidation takes its course.
Flora overgrowing all that it surrounds,
blocking the old path that once prevailed.
It was once a place of beauty and charm,
when one’s taxes used to foot the bill.
That was before greed and corruption
stuck out its ugly hand to line Its pockets.
I fear those days when the elected cared
has gone the way of the Dodo’s flight.
Landing us all face down in the dirt
while they skip along with a healthy smile.
