Narrative poem......The Game

Waking down this grainy road,
The yellow eyed cat makes it way,
Makes his way into my mind,
Slowly collecting the black marbles,
So he can play a game with the mice,
I know he cheats in his game,
He’s always the winner and the mice are his victims to consequence.
Around me I see no leaves on any tree,
Except one, One holds as the breath of the wind attempts to loosen his grip.
It fights and wishes to hold onto it’s tree,
The wind laughs and slashes the leaf,
The cat laughs as well and calls him a fool,
The battle had been won by the wind,
As the corpse fell to the ground with its brothers and sisters.
I reach the willow tree I’ve been searching for.
Yellow it is as the cat’s eyes.
A little boy races around my mind,
Smiles and I watch how his eyes shine as he sees his new toy truck.
I watch him play on the road.
I hear the roaring of the machine,
His eyes shined against the crimson road,
I’m sorry
The cat gnaws at me and asks for his final marble.
I didn’t forget, what I told him as I place the dark stern of a deathly flower in where
my words have escaped.
I’m sorry,
I pull and release.
Thinking of that little boy.
The cat collects his marble and smiles, “I’ve won once
again”.