A Losing Game (Poetry)

Two down within the season’s careless turn
exhausted trees are frittering their gold
dejected thoughts to youth’s horizon yearn
the year and I no longer fight the cold

Two faces gone, two names struck from the list
all swept away — small lives like autumn leaves
just two among the millions scarcely missed
as play goes on despite each heart that grieves

They’ll be replaced — the gap they left refilled
though days grow dark and nights are drawing in
now enthusiasm for the game has chilled
since we know the chances are we cannot win