As the day drew on
More the cynic
He'd become
It was no leaf
Smiling happily
At the tiny
hopper
No, it was
Guillotine
Ready to
Lop her
head
The night
He especially
Did dread
With the
Turning
Wheel of fortune
Jeopardy
Awaiting
Craven
The cynic cycle
Landing repeatedly
Upon bankruptcy
Giving it back
Headless hoppers
Haunting him
Sharp leaves
Cutting
Morning longed for
The beginning anew
Perhaps this day
Making it til noon
Quietly tipping
Not waking the
Cynic sleeping
In the other
Room.
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