eventually I think we will sink from
all the tears the icebergs leak from the polar
caps, and the radio man will say “today
we’re sinking with a chance for sunny
skies later”, always later while the land
gets smaller and smaller and the time grows
later and later, until the face grows weary
with wrinkles, take the advice of the
beggar, hold your cup, ask for a little change
hold that face straight, hope the others don’t
see that hint of a smile at it all, hope the
others don’t ever see that imploring smile
Ben Paynter
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-smiled-i/
