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.