Ten

Just yesterday while chatting with a friend,

He mentioned, "A game, scored in tens."

Thoughtfully I inquired what he meant.

His posture changed, a calm assent.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"Life's moments fade in this way."

We recalled our childhood's cloudy scenes,

Reliving the glories we had gleaned.

A deeper truth, he said, "You must now face."

The glimmer faded, leaving sorrow's trace.

He stood just then, inviting me in,

As the crickets sang and sunlight dimmed.

Beyond the hall, a door ajar,

An oasis of pages from near and far.

He switched on the lamp and gestured to a chair,

Lowered the shades and adjusted the air.

Something caught my eye just then,

Tucked away carefully in a rusty tin,

Lay a coin bearing the number 10.

Across the room unseen by men,

Shrouded in darkness where secrets spin,

A bottle echoing that solemn ten.

Carefully concealed where lights are dim lies a juxtaposition of silent sin.

Beyond the abyss and amidst the flame,

As the chasm grew wisdom came.

He swears the spirits are fed off his regret,

Resentment feeds the rising debt.

His final words of wisdom were bittersweet,

I found myself a victim of the clocks steady beat.