Proposterosity

The weather’s turned its back And welcomed me with open arms The absence of warmth a tepid comfort My mind as enclosed as country farms The serenity screams my maiden Calling me back to the present Remembrance can make you forget The queen will appreciate her peasant Your senses so in tune Yet unable to recognize A reality warped to fiction A plot the mind cannot devise If unfamiliarity an old friend And you look unto the past If change the only constant How can the future last? And though I want the solitude And welcome the sound of silence Everything else seems numb Resembling no shred of sense And if I shed a tear It must only be my last For daddy sees no reason to cry And there’s nothing to see in the past