Whywhy Isis Thethe Skysky Youyou

WHY IS THE SKY YOU? I know not which days the lovely comes here I only know how I feel each time she draws near she only graces this place about three times a week And if given the chance I probably couldn’t speak We once exchanged words, but I don’t know what I said I kept speaking while envisioning what could lay ahead She looked like the picnic type with grapes and champagne But then I could tell there was sophistication in one who portendS to be plain Not so much a chameleon, but just a soul eager to please I would pour her a glass of champagne while upon my knees I was thinking about how it seems we both have seen it all How many times did she rise and how many times did I fall? Only a few days of the week and I never know what day And if given a chance I can’t think of what I’d say I know the lady doesn’t deserve the imperfections in me Yet I’d squeeze out “would you like to go on a picnic ma’m?” and hopefully she’d agree She could tell me a tale and I would tell her a story It may be rhetorical, analytical or an allegory The lady could tell me how she’s grown and what she’s seen And I find her so intriguing she could convince me the sky is green Alas the lass passes my way but I must have a ration Yet I talk not of a fiery, hellishly hot kind of passion I’m talking about the shocking electric thrill I’m doused in when she passes by And I’ll be impatiently waiting to tell her I actually saw a forest green sky © 2011.…..free cee!