494 and 495

Before this winter started, I bought thee,

dear earphones from my neighborhood Walmart,

and all these months I’ve carried thee with me—

where’er I wast, thou wast never apart.

And ne’er shall be. Still, at least, I shall know

the weathered inch of furrowed fabric, thine.

Tho to a landfill thy dead case must go,

thy songs and podcasts will always be mine.

Weep not that now another wears my ear,

for they wore not through wintertime with me.

Until they shall, thou wilt be ever near—

within the heart of my eardrum is thee.

O Bluetooth, bear these dead buds now with haste

to an always fully-charged charging case.

~~~

I found Life sitting in a ditch. Said I,

“What are you doing there, O little one?”

He looked still downward with a dreaded sigh,

then his innocent tears began to run.

He looked up, then, to tenuously find

my eyes—though ‘tenuous’ is not quite right.

However frail his image was, the bind

of his eyes onto mine was iron-tight.

His eyes took mine, and in them I could see

the last scene that he’d known, reflected back.

What brought him here was shown clearly to me—

but truth less the reward, and more the rack:

though little, and as dear as my own kin,

reflection showed that I had pushed him in.