I'm moving down desolation row,
Where dessert winds of mind blow;
Burned loves in oblivion go,
This is how it goes.
Flying kites in cloudy sky;
Trusting words that don't say goodbye;
I have done what I could try,
Passions with its foes.
Scanning pictures moment’s thoughts,
Unloading affection lots;
Skimping all those temper plots,
Torn from a red rose.
Peter S. Quinn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/44-from-what-s-really-happening-in-54-numbers/
