When It Happens

The crow looks like black hanging rag The trees blurred blotch of green Trunks furcating like horns of stag The sky is shorn of sheen! The road in haze is dazed in dust Crossing seems out of bound Eyes from birth hold distrust Under feet is slipping ground! Cars loud honk speeding by How far is the other side Though it looked close and nigh Now seems hands need a guide! Faces of men look only half done The letters on the board gone pale Walking it seems is no longer fun All sights are without head or tail! In strangeness appears familiarity Might fall and break my neck Ghost like looms a known city Left behind at home my specs!