Blue

whispering hands

The sky is blue,
My soul is too.
Sickneningly true,
So we blame "who"?

These are days,
Outnumbered plays.
That bring a haze,
Creating a phase.

What do we know?
Where can we go?
How does one show?
The lines we tow?

Think of me now,
Don't ever ask how.
Just let me rest upon your brow,
And sleep secure, upon your bough.

Good-bye.. it's my tiny way of lettign go..