Six years upon my chest, hidden from the white giant, clothed in red or green and seen again, again this time of year, threatened at children in supermarkets "He'll not come." A dumb false promise, I once knew from my Mother home, a threat that falls on numbed wounds. Soon, the day will be distant, reminded with insistence "You should be grateful, for this and that." Forget the aggression, the thrust berating, that made the 'stuff' worth nought worth saving.
Pink skies all day long, Come to realize the truth Truly, you are the rainbows end Ending the false dream song, Singing softly in cosmic chorus math Equating the perfect flowers blend Of life's perfume inside your heart, Heartfelt blooms the best scents Scented by yellow clouds drifting by In byways where you create art; Artful soul needs no matrix scene For you are the sky and clouds that fly.