Brewed

It is in the blowing of winds and thoughts- In the Fragments of coherence. Beauty swings. Laughter slides. The sun-tanned sands of time crawl In metaphorical rhythm. Meaning floats like a dawn-lingering fog. Damp yet almost non-existent. Gentle yet At times blurring. I wonder about anything and everything- childishly curious. Playgrounds. Streets that extend in front of my eyes like Darkness at midnight. A blend of happenings. A welding of perception. A farrago of senselessness. I am compelled to question every word That comes to mind And then follow this uncertainty By inquisitive why’s. Wings flutter. Shadows reflect on opposite surfaces. Distances. One might think of speed. Time. The ever-turning carousel- Time... Red freckles that eventually sink into the wrinkled Oceans of time. Time that brings with it only more time... Clocks that tick.. Bells that chime... Smiles..voices.. Mishappenings and rhyme That only add to the dusty Contents of memory.