Earlier this morning,
I awoke to yellow.
It was a soft yellow;
Yellow cherry blossoms.
Now, Blue's blankets are gone.
He stretches - endlessly.
And white planes' ribbon-trails
Draw cuts in the canvas.
Why is the sky so soft?
Soon, it'll all catch on fire.
Quietly and slowly,
Displays of flames will burn,
While Blue - he slips away.
Black soot will surely spread
In that grand fire's wake.
It, too, will be so soft.
It'll be mysterious.
Why is the sky so soft?
In that soot will shine lights.
They will shine so brightly.
Those lights are promises.
Pledges for tomorrow.


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