Should The River Run Poem by Kevin Maroney

With the sighing of leaves the wind did heave,
and in the dirt did the mice scurry,
with the dying of the heaps, did sins steep,
and the old did they harry.

Quietly, footsteps deep, upon the floor did fall,
one after another, left, and creep,
through the night so very steep, a wonderful sound asleep,
that mystery that hearts doth hide, and in their bottoms sleep.

Wake them up, throw them out, let them see the day,
a Blood-red sun, under which a dry river runs,
and all throughout this bay,
a lovely tune does break the gloom, and turn from sight to gray.

Better tis in art's embrace, to not see the palate most disgraced,
and in the morning, a setting sun, in darkness should the river run