Oft the night sky sang sad songs,
crying inconsolably like a child...
for its day was marred again with
passing airships and flying birds,
yet none stopped to ask,
to smile and lift its mask,
to shephard it,to share its task.
I was only a child myself,
yet in seeing the sky's dark demeanor,
I bartered what little cents I had,
to bring rich gifts for the night,
bright showers of light,
and the loud screams of fireworks,
always coloured the sky's cheek,
shades of colour red,embarassed and meek.
We were friends, for when I was weak,
my hideout it too would seek,
and show streaks of neon in its cracks,
loud shouts calling me out,
sprayed me with waterfall,
played with a kid ignored by all.
Today I am a man,
Today the sky is grey old,
I bring with the same enthusiasm
fireworks when the sky gasps in spasm,
but he is slowed with signs of age,
and I am left rain-less and caged
with pain causing rage,uncontrolled.
Maybe, It was impish illumination,
a child with happy hallucination,
and the Sky was never my friend,
but I still shower on it,..sparkles,
hoping it answers in its booming voice,
for given a choice…
I would rather, on night made heavy with rumination,
Be a dreamer enchanted by fertile imagination.
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