a bellowing of sighs filled the day
as everone breathed out at one time;

felt the colors of the wind Keith
talked about, saw them, tasted them.

but the day was locomotive-moving
and i, an early riser, was behind.

on each step i felt for balance;
the roar from the dream machine
was keeping me awake but fuzzy;
it whispered gotta keep going,
gotta keep going, gotta, gotta.

but Keith was chasing a wispy dream.
a dream he knew he was not to have.
i just want to meet my next breath,
and the next, and the next, and the next.

07/21/2008

Author's Note: touche to keith for the coinage of colors in the wind...

Posted on 07/21/2008
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