These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Not the Same Page

Our friendship's aromatic blast,
it's rosy plumes fill joyful lungs.
Foundations of smooth granite cast,
so tethered by sweet songs we've sung.

Now acrid burns my tender hairs
within late sooty, blackened nose
as friendship tumbles down the stairs
hard smashing verdant plants. None grows.

White fluffy clouds of Hope appealed,
"New sunny, brilliant light, it's best,"
but one man's blessing sliced and reeled
the other's heart, strong bond divest.

Now, friendship's bleeding, pungent mass
invades the air with pluff mud rank.
What a syrupy thought! "This too shall pass."
Its comforts goad as "Walk the plank."

by Jay O’Toole
on October 3rd, 2023