A tired man rests at the foot of his grave
To watch as the stone tracks the dying sun’s rays
And his back is arched and his tongue is dried as he shouts up to the sky
But a fiend in a sin shall exist in his rage
To ponder the pain of the choices he’s made
Now they’ve clipped his wings and blinded his eyes as he comes into the night
Ah the birds of July, he recalls, in the oaks
And the dance of the girls on the flowering slopes
And the words as they leapt up off the yellowing page
Now fading as they die
A feeble man lies at the end of his grave
On the dirt that he plied with a rusting spade
And he jingles his chains in the mists of the night as he prays up to the sky
But a fiend in a sin shall persist in his hate
And his judgment will come on decisions made
Now they’ve broken his wings and blistered his eyes as he welcomes in the night
Ah the birds of July, he recalls, in the oaks
And the dance of the girls on the flowering slopes
And the words as they leapt up off the yellowing page
Now fading as they die
Kelly Vinal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/judgment-day/
