The rain calls softly from beyond the window
Fingers tapping on glass, persistent
Undaunted at the prospect of rejection
Saxophones serenade and trumpets sound
A color wheel exploding in my mind's eye
The rain was jazz for a moment
White lights create an art in their geometry
With shapes that don't exist
Except in the mind of the beholder
Smoke billows from between my lips
And this world of mine coagulates
It feels so right it almost stings.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
The rain calls softly from beyond the window
Fingers tapping on glass, persistent
Undaunted at the prospect of rejection
Saxophones serenade and trumpets sound
A color wheel exploding in my mind's eye
The rain was jazz for a moment
White lights create an art in their geometry
With shapes that don't exist
Except in the mind of the beholder
Smoke billows from between my lips
And this world of mine coagulates
It feels so right it almost stings.