Stone – Autumn Villanelle

Autumn Villanelle

Oh this is the time of riches to rag.
Red petals fall from the frost-blighted roses
and summer goes into an old paper bag.

Day lilies wilt and stems start to sag.
Why waste the water so put away hoses.
Oh this is the time of riches to rag.

The filly of youth is now an old nag
from arthritic limbs and age’s sclerosis
and nations go into an old paper bag.

All flesh is grass no matter its flag,
the rich and the famous full of fine poses.
Oh this is the time of riches to rag.

Helen of Troy turns into a hag.
A head coiffed with gold is cut as fall closes.
and legends go into an old paper bag.

The beauty of man is nothing to brag
after varicose veins and bulbous noses.
Oh this is the time of riches to rag
and summer goes into an old paper bag.

 

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