Bluer Than...

Somehow, the skies seem bluer than blue

in these short long days

I am not certain how this can be true -

Wrestling with thoughts that plunge into infinite stays

then again, the horizons seem greyer than grey.

In this time of free falling

while waiting the night’s wrawling

to cease echoing in the ear’s hollows

until precious sleep slowly swallows

all reality and churns it over into a hole of insane dreams;

turning and turning while the caged bird screams

Awake all of heaven into a rage

somehow, the old acquaintance

seems to want to take a younger age -

Of a youth I can barely paint into words that make any rhyme

nor think about any longer - without losing even more time.