Again

The distinct smell of lilac pervade; a fragrance
Fluttering like gilded butterflies across rooms
Of infinite spaces; with dusty age hovering as
Humans blazing by on some lazy churchyard court.

It is not the dust that matters; but the new-
Year mood people clad in sunshine-red take
To this place of beds and disinfectants; gaunt
Bodies; half a foot down-under in hard concrete.

Gerontophilia rears its head- this time- every
Year; perhaps happiness in the making; some
tremendous comfort or otherwise; to quell the
Sobs struggling in wheelchairs and lone blankets.

For a while, a pictureperfect moment is put on;
In a snapshot of gratification; what asian values
We all have- confucius could be proud. Angbaos;
Oranges; the banal greetings; they help to make

The day better; Yet when the sun
Sets- the cold will descend again.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 10:23 pm