Lament in Harvard Yard
Every choice a walker in his path
to nowhere
that he knows.
Every voice a talker of his wrath
to himself
by himself
Every passerby both threat and opportunity
to stop and see
or steel to flee.
How did this day come?!
Where past is gone,
last chance moves on.
It's not said, but you're a bum!
afraid of all,
took the big fall.
The golden sunlight is for some
you know not who.
But, not for you.