Dull skies have finally broken
Humidity lifts
and there is air under there--
The last of day
the barest blues
the singe of pink
held up by lumps of charcoal cloud
drifting in scent of backyard fires
The moon curses from its crook of smile

Then hides again
behind the city rooftops and blackened trees
among the aerial cheers of a football game

two miles away

The petals fall in the fountain,
the orange-coloured rose-leaves,
Their ochre clings to the stone.

She is filled with smooth promises
Suggesting what might have beens yet to come
Languid and persuasive above the clouds
Sweet nothings whisper, "love is out there."

Continue to write
And express yourself
Give the readers a chance to think
And also to educate themselves
Help them open their minds
Everyone needs clarity
Remove from those clouds
That are filled with obscurity

The deep somber toll of a brass bell,
a black wagon carrying me to the grave:
these are the sighs of a missed Friday.

Pale the drown of tears before the light
That loneliest hour of the day or night
From breathless slumber to death's door
Seeks the soul the haunts of peace