Dismal gray.
An ugly shade.
A tint of blue.
No loving hue returned.
Kaleidoscope of turning skies.
Written by their alibis.
The scene becomes
pure-scented memory.

Psychologically speaking
of feelings denied.
As altruistic intellect
unrolled in muted sighs.
Individuality that led
to a tremendous isolation.
Intellectuality that stalled
within each thaw of desolation.

Enduring all the dismal gray.
Transmuted in the shadow
work that plays the blues
in starlit hues of distance.
Becoming deeper as they
range around in dreams
of ember's light...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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