Scrambling Through The Hay Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Fear has its way,
Of replacing the chase...
To maintain, gain and obtain,
Those frivolous and expensive escapades.
Lacking with seriousness wished,
To be left and kept away.

Ooops!
Unsaddled unexpectedly,
From their high horses ridden to ride...
Are the ones today seen,
Scambling through the hay.
Seeking for anything that shines.
And may have been dropped to spot,
Out of pockets emptied.
With hopes to pawn before the dawn.

Forlorn and mourning,
A greed to feed on a decreasing feast.
Forlorn and mourning,
The viciousness of a teasing beast.
Cranking out credit and unpaid debts.
Coming to threaten impressions to reget.

Fear has its way,
Of replacing the chase...
To maintain, gain and obtain,
Those frivolous and expensive escapades.
Lacking with seriousness wished,
To be left and kept away.

Tears drip from eyes cried.
Denials hidden,
No longer can appease to pacify.
Abandoning more are delusions stored.
Doors now closed once opened before,
Are found to be shut forevermore.
And a scambling done through the hay,
Has stopped.
To prop up heads and make beds,
For those high horse riders to lay away...
From those showing less empathy,
Hearing their moans and groans day and night...
About how their selfish appetites,
Have come to have them witnessed...
Being betrayed.

'You guys okay over here? '
Asked those horses on the backs they rode.
'We're going to have to take away some of the hay.
Those days you thought everything was yours,
Are gone.'