Idle Talk

Tattered remnants of a dying past

Flutter in the corridors of mind,

Fleeting shreds, they hope awhile to last

And propagate disturbance in the blind

Unknowing avenues on which we walk.

Paying scant attention to the thought

That lurks concealed in all our idle talk

Through our mindless chatter we are caught

As in a formidable spider's net

Speaking unintended words that sting and wound,

Their subtle mischief's play our tongues abet,

The harmony of souls so quickly ruined.