poem prompted by today's entry at joesnyc.com

drab rags

if i could somehow be purple or lavendar
listening intently to windows
wondering of water droplets falling
onto a white, clean cloth
foreboding, i
walk these streets to sense this
forever climbing and falling onto rooftops
grasping at straws
wishing the weeping willow trees
could call on me

the street sweeps white
the glare is blinding
i want to walk down the beauteous path
the path of lightning
i want to wander alone and among
the stars of the morning
riding along the dawning
feeling the light sky blue