Jan. 10, 1974
6:40 p.m. 
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
The Harpsichord Broke Down at Middle C
Running past your world of woes
Closing eyes to hide the foes
Your dearest freinds become old Joes
The wonderland turns into dirt
Yelling curses in the rain
Buying guaze to hide the pain
Acting mad, but say you're sane
You stumble once and you get hurt
Sadbody's clown masks are all falling down
Eyes which looked upward now fall toward the ground
Wish girls would find you, say "look what I found"
They really don't mean it, they only flirt.
You cannot remember appointments you made
You're lost in your world, you wish you had stayed
The roadmap is lost and the sky has decayed
If you could have found Him,
You know you'd have prayed
But strings of your complications unwind
You started out easy, and you're now in a bind
Everything was clear, now you wish you were blind
Someone else took the fruit
And you're left with the rind.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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