deepundergroundpoetry.com

TORPOR SKY

Early morning, no later I would wake
Nearly tripped, furniture�s out of place
The sun barely kissed the tree-line
Steaming coffee for the cold inside
There�s your crooked picture on the wall
You were five, and I wasn�t nearly bald
I�d check the mail if there ever was
But now it�s time to wait for the bus

Wrote a name
To shelter the flame
When the world is in pain
Credit me
For this final scene
In pointless reverie

I know it�s Winter now, the ash piles up
And the liquid turns stale in my cup
The heat is broken and my home�s not wired
All of a sudden, now I grow tired
Think I�ll sleep before the sun goes dark
Or walk through the night, to the park
I can�t remember where I left my mask

I can see tomorrow through my empty flask

Wrote a name
To shelter the flame
When the world is in pain
Credit me
For this final scene
In pointless reverie
Wonder why
That I could fly
Only when I�d lost the sky
I will try
To keep it alive
Only once it died