In circles,

Hands holding jaws

We sat, waiting for master's script.

Now, the party is losing colour

A shade of green, strange shade that is.

Green gone like an old groin pain.

When the door swung open,

Master's script said it all;

Lines of hope. Hyphens of greatness

Each punctuation seemed like our

Forlorn Sun, anew. This script has

Come to water our despair.

But master's words as bright,

Hung with the skies. We waited

And waited. Our hands back to jaws.