Chris G. Vaillancourt
A Smattering Of Applause
Sheltered dreams always seem to end.
They filter down like
drops of hopeless water
which fall from the sky
and melt upon hitting the ground.
Pleasant sands sparkle in the
brilliance of the sunshine.
Yet the heat of the ground
would burn as easily
as a furnace fire.
Necklaces are woven out of
Worn like penance
around the necks
of chanting monks
into the setting
of the play.
The actors were assembled, now they are gone.
The stage was full, now it stands quietly empty.
The audience has clapped its last applause.
Butterflies have lost the
will to fly and so they
flutter to their death
upon the burning sands.
The heat escapes attention
as the wings smoke
and than burst into tiny
The animals have been released from the zoo.
The doorkeeper has fled his enclosure in order
to surrender his vowels to the
strands of politically correct
I told you the play was over.
Now go home.
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