Clouds on clouds,

The day adjourns.

Any misgivings can be returned 

By the jury, like socks

That do not fit.

But some return gifts that fit just right,

Preferring to select their own society.

Piety comes in many forms,

And in the norms of jury duty,

I find no solace,

Just a grimace from sitting all day

In Blind Justice's gray courtroom,

Feeling such great pity

For all involved.

It seems a simple situation devolved,

And As I stand, I wonder if Love 

Really could have been the answer?

Love is on trial.

It's on the witness stand.

It's my court appointed counsel.

It has a fool for a client.

It's done everything but judge,

Everything but fail.

Yet I feel it's lovely leg irons, now.

They keep me from running.

I'm standing.

I'm standing,

Awaiting for the verdict.

-jenn