Bluest Breeze
While waves beat, break on shore,
Days are short and nights are long.
On the bluest breeze white birds soar,
With passion played softly like a song.
Still in life there is a glowing amber,
A firebird that flames up, below the ash.
High on spirit wildflowers clamber,
Albeit the whole affair is a little rash.
Questions float unanswered upon my head,
While the sky is painted yellow and red.
I looked thru a door I cannot walk past,
Forever knowing the skit will never last.
Life may dull, but it is never formulaic,
Even when the intone is a bit prosaic. |