• The sky is the color of gravestones.
    The rain tastes like salt, and rises
    in the streets like a ruinous tide.
    We spoke of millions, of billions of years.
    We talked and talked.
    The sky is always changing
    Can't it settle down?
    Shades of blue, then reddy hue
    Puffs of grey and white
    Meekly is the darkened sky,
    Handy are the clouds that lie,
    Smoothly do the tree tops wheeze,
    Quietly to set the mind at ease.
    Slowly reaching for eternity,
    Wanting some help so desperately,
    And viciously does the darkness fight,
    For it is overcome by daylight.