Sobriety

Morning:

It was a meek, milky

blue sky
calling out
to say hi.

Hmm. So so long,
its been
that I saw a streak of white
race across my sight

It was passing jet fuel

posing as cloud

Look at me,

it screamed aloud

I'm going, I'm going

and you ain't with me

I figured that

It must've been some big journey

that a past self had been on

Well, the jet's gone and so has that man.

Noon:

Thought to myself

If it was a Jet

and I didn't see it

Maybe the sky was better

without it?

Sour Grapes always taste better

when they aren't w(h)ine.

Jets without traces

Leave no trace of crime

Evening:

The thought moved me and my day

along with it

till it became quiet night

I looked up for my next no- surprise.

(The city's bright glow

tends to overflow

and filters out factors

like stars and other non-actors)

Night:

Dust settled,the stars came on

with feeble might

wasn't even a fight

with attractive streets

and other pretty sights

But memory took over

and maybe closer

to things still sore.

Of course, it felt much more

As i replaced the sky I was seeing

With the sky I'd seen before

Mesmerised, I wondered

If this is what it is to be sober

Then I'd go beyond October(!)

and look at newer things

with older eyes

and older things

with younger guise.

to be (hopefully) continued...