Thanks for the Day...

It was the perfect day.
A simplistic afternoon.
The day of days when raining reigned.
A day when lemonade was made,
chairs made cozy by softened pillows behind the back,
a warm blanket and good book were appropriate,

But for today these were not.

I softened up to much in my aging.
As I changed brands, and wine changed me,
I was softened.
Diamonds are hardened under pressure,
but simply,
I am weakened.

Today was a day of relapse.
Memories of days long begotten.
Days forgotten, days with haze and glossy bays, now rotten.

It was good at the lake.
Bathing in sun and in lakeside shore, lemonade abundant,
and life with sweetly mitten notes of sappy granny graces.

Brisk thoughts; memories like smells.
Pounding arms and heavy huffs.
Exercise wasn't my buff, but i knew id last longer.
So at the Lake shore, day by day,
I changed and softened.
From Turmoil to heavy boils I enjoyed it all,
The Lake and my many falls.

So Sappy and ruining this day did come.
I'm obnoxious too you who know not my slums.
I've sat down at computers and typed, typed, typed.
And in spite of previous obsessions,
and saddening times which had no rhymes,
I depressed.

It did not have to be.
An irrepressible urge to pick it up.
Thats why they created caller ID,
so people like me could identify he,
and maybe delay a little longer.

So before I end this poem of madness,
and before I sit and plunder in my sadness,
all I can say is this:
"She goes to Glory."

I was undressed in my living room,
a fresh shower was just the way,
and in a robe, I held up sadness, up to my ear.

I retired there, dropping to the floor.
The memories faded, and I could no longer...
escape my ruined life.

And As It dropped, I too dropped, I dropped down to die.