Down the street to the corner
turn left at the house
turned dead and white-silent by years and the rain
Where Saint Peter once sat,
his head on his hand
when the ugly tears rolled and the lonely men cackled
with glee in the rain
but the bloodstains washed out
... don't they always?
... through the rosegarden windows
of dust in the air
And see the poor beggar
with rust on his shoes
whose eyes are too blind
and life is too short
to see Saint Peter dead in the rain.

__________________
is snuggly