The Ice rink statues move in the freezing fog,
a day to remember, a wonderful time.
Old man walks his dog along the ancient towpath
knowing that time has run out.
His life awaits the doom
of memories burned out
in a hostile world.
Idiots write poetry
and spew out inverted self -centered rhyme,
trying to out do all competitors.
Meaning is trivialized.
Life is a cruel agony now,
the old man watches the figures
as they skate majestically
around his life,
is better than
(by Chris Pitts)