this twenty twelve
has not arrived quietly
see dandelions of every hue
roar its ascendency
and lanterns of hope carry prayers
to their oblivion
while ill attired and worse tempered
the Wife Beaters consorts
surge clanging and clattering
through a wide awake slumber
where the revellers whoop and greet
though behind the curtains of the lonely
there is weeping
and I
cannot sleep for fear
of forgetting
yet I dare not write
for fear
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