Thursday, September 15, 2016


White beams of light filter through the cloudy sky
I think of the raincloud, and of days gone by
As the electrical storm outside billows
It's the storm within, which slowly unfolds

Little talk I offer, which might speak aplenty
I'll be myself; I'm so tired of pretending
So I set out to walk all those miles to your door
But I meander outside, like each time before
Peek through the keyhole then shrink to the ground
Hide behind pillars, afraid to be found
Like Alice, searching for the antidote or key
To the end of this quest; the anwer to this malady
The next life you say, thence we can put it to rest?
If the end is eternal, is this just a test?

I have sat in the waiting room of life before
Watching your littles ships sail to my shore
But let's leave them afloat for a while if we may?
I'm not pinning my hopes on another rainy day.