How can we drink from life's rusted cups?
Do we poison ourselves if we do?
Put a badge of gangrene on our soul?
I loved you and life once
in a time so much better than this.
We had our favorite hill
we would sit on together.
There were sharp rocks there
quartz and others with gold specks.
The rocks cut our hands a little,
but we noticed not the blood
that came nor the gold.
We had each other before
the noise, cars, and hate came.
Our memories dance among
the stars now.
How can we drink from life's rusted cups?
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