Bad Drawings

hand drawn clouds float by the paper sky I wonder sketching out my thoughts. with sharpened pencils hereby What took the soil so long to come as the rain fell by When dusk droops down and fireflies dream afternoons gets sung by coats, and men lamplights open the flicker of a glow clouds call upon red night thundering. The evening airs the sound of crickets the ghost of silence ever knows this long drawn night in a blue twilight outlines in tormented mute, scurry the graves in deep longing for the meaning of death is all it took. The air catches a mournful tune skulls on the ground eyes absent, empty whistle the air in midnight blues. Nobody draws a perfect ending Nobody's grave are satin sheets Nobody draws the silhouettes clean Nobody claims, when the ends meet When the ends meet... pencil tipped double V's finds their meaning in what they seek The birds shall know of these drawings when they perch upon my white sheets.