The Ballpark
Body starts it’s slow unwind,
Begins to end it’s slog through time
And one day (soon?), the spark subsides
One pulpy, flesh cell, at a time.
A clock’s relentless tock, (it ticks)
Like Ballpark lights that timed shut click, one
Glowering Tower, at a time, unlight
When you least suspect a change, one night.
Who knows when, what hours come
Or how quick a folding play, it runs
Such insights are not meant for fuss:
Like, finally, where one rests, (sublime.).