A whirl of white,
Laden with the weight
Of a sight too wide.
Another sensation of hope,
Another glimpse of the sweet
Tie of a thought too hard to grope.
A sedan of sunlight,
Eidetic of the vision of comfort,
Proclaiming the solace of sight.
Another touch of frothy care,
Another tug of the high
Rising bloom which is let to blare.
A bellow of birds,
Roaring and dancing
Of unsung, untold words.
Another whoosh of the worldly traveller,
Another soul of innocence
Let go to wander.
A pour of pelt,
Wreathing with furious mellowness
Holding along smoothness of felt.
Another clink against the pavement,
Another howl of relentless moaning
To the letters never sent.
A yolk of yellow,
Nurturing from a bucket of love
Like that plant (now, tree) you went to sow.
Another abundance to be held together,
Another muffled cherish let go
To the calling of the weather.
A devoid of dark,
Stamping on the morning dew,
Swinging to the melody of stark.
Another breath of emotion,
Another presumption of stupor
Dismantled with the departure of vexation.
A blind of black,
Holding, with meagre substance,
The wolf of the pack.
Another swirl in the aphotic coordinates,
Another secret to subdue
Onto the crevices of sates.
A hark of happy,
Surmounted with closure,
To the thought of sappy.
Another peep into my world,
Another hush-hush pushed to the shore
Instilling my halcyon to hold.
If you can’t see it now,
You won’t ever understand my happiness or
My when, my where, my how.
This is me deepening the low to the sky
And high, of men and women, which abide by
Radiance and sore solitude.