Alone at last, cobalt eyes
Gleaming like stars in the cobalt skies.
Outside the world is dark, bitter-
The wind screams bloody murder
And the cold, The cold might do it.
It was a night, just like this,
I imagined I knew, but alas,
The cheap ether made me wonder
What in fact, I did know, and what knew me.
Yes, it was on a night just like this,
Some years ago I dare say.
The wind screamed and the cold killed,
That birch paddles broke the river.
Small ripples ricocheted and raced-
Growing growing gone.
Lost in the swell of the crest wave.
And all these years later,
Those waves still dance in my mind.
Through an ethereal mist that some,
But not all, call time-
But mostly, which I call high moon-
And my cobalt eyes
Mirror cobalt skies.
Where the wind screams murder
And the wind just might kill me
(Assuming cheap ether won't) .
I take another haul on my broken Benson
And smile as I reflect, this is the end
Of cobalt skies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.