Because Of his and his Brethren's Ways

CRUSH! SMASH! is all he heard when the ball of his tennis shoe descended upon amber wings that hummed between the sprays of honeysuckles… SCRAPE! SCRAP! scratch his ears as his foot twists from side to side. But that was in the decades that were care-free: When the flower children danced in the streets, or when Madonna blossomed into a siren. Now, in his later ages, he and his children hear no more amber wings, They hear no crackles of bodies or scratches under their soles: all that they see are empty sprays of gushing honeysuckles, letting off their aroma to summon the amber armada. None came. Just silence in the millennium. …..silence…. Because of his and his brethren’s ways.