A Silent Kind of Blue

there is no hush...when silent dreams can scream and echo through a thousand yesterdays just like the thoughts that float upon a stream are lost in lackadaisical malaise no peace within this torrid kind of blue - horizons that portend more of the same then taunt with hints of calm where wishes flew to where they hide - and no one has a name a sultry sax weeps like the sallow trees as tickled keys stall on a lazy chord - a cloud sails through blown by a trumpet's breeze and patience snares its improvised reward all tangled in a thought that never ends - that solo break where sanity pretends