The putty on the antique frame

Is crumbling in my dreams;

The richly patterned tablecloth

Comes free at all its seams.

 

The neatly-tended flowerbed

Turns wild and overgrown;

Once-pristine grassy spreads of lawn

Are patchy and unmown.

 

The wondrous spectrum of our world,

Its subtle, shifting slants,

Gives way to cheapskate slogans

And simple-minded chants.

 

It seems to happen everywhere,

As reason falls away,

That unhappy degradations

Will flourish and hold sway.