THE POND

The Cob has left the pond singing a last Cob song

Exiting its abode where it loved to live for so long

The pond’s bullfrog cries from its lily pad,

Hapless, ribbitless, muted, alone, and sad.

Now, the Cob’s Swan

Too is woefully gone.

Its sudden demise dampens life on the pond’s hillside,

The muskrat, red fox and mouse have left or have died,

And the pond’s waters stagnate in such short time

Covered and deoxygenated by a thick green slime.

The old cottage sitting on the pond’s shore, suffers like fate,

Abandoned, rotting, lifeless, windblown, barren, and desolate.

All that remains are the ghosts of yesteryears left behind,

Shadowed in mist and fog as dulled images of the mind.