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!
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