short poem

to some the fat gods
did you ever hear of
when the wind works against us in the dark
city that is not a city
tell me less or tell me more
if i should die, think only this of me
who is the runner in the skies
often is it not so?
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
perhaps
sad are they who know not love
there were three in the meadow by the brook