Mask of Joy

and the oranges
have ripened
on the tree

house is empty
roommates gone
leaving you
time aplenty

climb the ladder
weather beaten
in disrepair

savor what you can
the sweetest fruit
drips nectar
through your hands

Don’t you know
it doesn’t show/don’t let it show
when you hide behind a painted mask of joy

another year gone primed
another wrinkle
in the face
of time

the black lace scanties
against the smooth gold skin
of a never fading

the secret rendez vous
The stolen hours
robbed you of your

savor what you found
The ripened fruit
Falls rotten
To the ground


In this age of curated photo streams, we can spend our lives putting on a facade, a mask of joy instead of engaging in meaningful relationships. And meanwhile the years pass, “robbing us of our youth, the ripened fruit falling rotten to the ground”.

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