Sunset off the Boulevard

I wake to one more
pick up the pieces and
with tape in hand
join in
the repairing of
the broken

I dream this,
a silent movie
screen kiss,
Pickford and I locked
into an embrace

And the jigsaw waits for me
to end the dreamery and
Pickford wearily
unites with other artists
almost tearily and
waves goodbye
to me.

I pick the pieces from my eyes
disengage my ears and no
longer hear her cries, it makes
no difference how hard a man tries,
the day always breaks.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.