Keith

Until the Rain Turns Red

Clamped in a cold stream

while a white shirt

a crisp white shirt

waits.

You can walk while I just waste.

And carnival ties

are undone for good

at the bottom of my bed.

Any daydreams

left undone

are fastened away

not exposed ever again

to the wrinkling light

of growing pain.

 

Tidied up

from my breakfast bar brain

‘til you eat again……

 

or until the rain turns red.