Interpretation of the day. A Hollywood tale.

Interpretation of the day

freaks and saviors of past and present

meeting spaces with naïve glances

watch the air because some things never stop.

The greyscale of the lamp posts

tentative school children who hate the weather

swansong singing pigeons with more faith than me

glance assuredly at the wind blown elite.

This is Hollywood and I am a pauper

pretending that I fit into the grind

never more and always kindred

to the rain and the shimmer that is left on the street.

This day, they say will never pass again

the silken clouds will bring in the shift

mermaid like birds with the light in their eyes

will remind those that come later of our souls

Thank the wind for the blossoms

and thank the sky for the night

peace be in your hearts my loves

For you are the dreamers of the dreams.