A limousine On Elm street
I think about nothingness mostly these days
My nothingness is not foggy and mystic
Not demanding about the attires, undone
Still dumped in the bucket, for reasons,
not aligned in chorus
All I know that time
Asynchronous and foggy that
Those all are in, with humbleness
And gratitude
To ponder and assure
I am possible, I am dusable
And I shall be.
Clouds dispersing as clouds to be seen
In the background of cloth line
Not too much voice
Out there. Outlier.
Likewise tragic heroes unsung
Dispersing clouds foreshadowed foretold the bogainvalia tree too
Visible from the patio
An open hand like a Muslim mind
Your colorless teardrops are singing on leaves
A clearly wrapped in blossom
For a diva of colors is one subtlety, understood
And yet heavenly father an interlocking too
And a failed litmus test and
A manila folder and probability
And diversity pedagogy
We're over head and letterhead too
A clear crystal laminated and I shall be
Paper rack among the niche
Stipulations and vibrant
Colors in a fathomless embody
To find envoi , iambic pentameters and juxtaposing
Possibilities
Beyond all white
No mind
Today
And I am grateful for a scent of sunlight
In these
And not in those winter Sundays
With an inescapable limousine
On Elm street
Even though even so
The brush strokes on the
Earth were
Seemingly so.
Got to go.
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