sanctuary

dreaming up castles made from bubbles
resting alongside the hand of father time,
the pigeon's coos popped them one by one
till the ruins even then were no more

and he whispered and prayed, fervent
trembling at the peak of the bell's toll
for twelfth was its final slide and soon he would fall

soon, he thought, it would rain
the clouds would battle like soldiers during guerrilla warfare
and their clashes would thunder lightening
and it would strike him, and he would weep

letting the tears speak what his god never listened to