cacodoxy

there was a theft yesterday
some fool raided the wind-chime shop
and stole as many as he could
in a tinkling mass of wood, steel, and strings
they can still here him walk away
when the wind blows in their direction
and even though he is long gone
the memory of the theft remains
like a ghost stuck in the mortal realm
bitter and caustic
gnashing at hands that might help
twinkling like an angry star
on a moonless night