Sunday

Pure blue.
You know that feeling, a feeling beyond your years,
a ball of roots hanging from a broken dusty old concrete staircase.
Sun shining, voluptuous cadence felling of the trees,
in time inexplicably you will be better, untied and carousing
this is what pins me. Far staring daydream.

Far staring daydream, here i am not.
the white satin of youth lost in a level drum
hammering on the slow starlight of yesterday.
Sat on the step beside my ever changing heart,
I listen for resemblance.

Intuitive movements,
you are a composer of penance.
Tell me why, inaudible scores
play the loudest in me.

Liquid pours, the lions roar.
and the setting sun reveals a shadow
complacent of it's birth.