There is a loose board on the old shed
exposing the gloominess residing within.
It hangs from rain gutters to the door stead
in the shade of old bicentennial oak tree.
The shed was once new, spotless and toured
before teeth got sharp and mind went full dull.
Now it’s deserted, sad and obscure;
once a glamorous face became a cold skull.
I felt my old Weltschmerz arriving unwelcomed,
a guest I chased away a long time ago.
Why are we hurt for the world that should be better?
Where is the change? Why its steps are slow?
I sit in the shade of the old oak tree.
I start to wonder how great it would be
if by fixing the shed and nailing the board
one could change everything and fix the whole world?
©2018 Troy Towns