Glistening canvas

At last, the blues return,
In spite of the sultry surroundings.
The rays of the sun do not reach me,
Distant echoes, unfamiliar—
Merely the maddening pounding.
 
The pounding plagues my hearing,
Since it caged me in these blues.
Merely that last summer,
They introduced me to my doom.
 
Now, a glistening, pristine canvas—my eyes are set upon.
Warmth, a withdrawal, for the heat is foreign.
I kept staring at the sun till it bids farewell,
Only to rise again at dawn.
 
Blinding promises invite me outside.
They seek company in their solitary state.
Grounds, fresh yet abandoned,
For my being—the perfect place.
 
As the invitation waits unanswered,
The glistening canvas decays,
For time is nothing but borrowed
If my blues turn into greys.
 
Thus, nature's rebirth misses out on my presence.
The rays and shimmer blinding me that day.
I hear whistling and laughing,
Yet I stay, lost in dismay.