Musings on a time gone past

The wind comes and sings the songs
that the carefree leaves and the random stars hum.
The orange mundanity that washes the streets,
clears the way for memories to come.
There are dreams some.
Paniful screams some.
Two laughs, three wasted jokes and a giggle -
and I have lived my life out in a bottle of rum.

The eagles fly unbounded on a sky left alone by walls.
The sparrows die where they stand.
The eagles fly unbounded on a sky left alone by walls,
and the silence mourns as the darkness fails to understand.
Some colours are jaded.
Some colours are bland.
You cannot make a life out of pieces of broken mirror -
for real people in reality, can never expand.

Veins criss-cross under the harem of the violet skin,
violet is the colour of the clouds.
Spread aside the days we cast asunder the stars
dancing joys, singing out aloud.
Those memories make me proud.
Those memories make me doubt.
For beyond the romance of time's thrifty shadows,
lies only the anonymity of another gypsy crowd.

15th feb, 05
11:41 PM