Sunday, April 3, 2011


This state is surely one to be abhorred.
Too many directions and subsequent turmoil.
You thought you knew what you wanted.

It is, or is it not what it seems anymore.
Layer upon layer of guile and pretense.
You wish you could see through it all.

A chime and it all goes back to being pink.
You're enamored and it will take time.
Find the castle or make the moat your abode.

Cool breeze on a bright afternoon.
The repartee between the sun and the sky.
They smile and jest, then abstain and avert.

Will the clock ever strike that time again?
Maybe it will and all will be pink for good.
Else we can live inebriated and forever pretend.

Change is imperative.