Free verse

Caught up in
pretty blue lights
dreams
sounds
romantic atmospheres.
Dreaming of icebergs
gardens
picnics
and long walks on the beach.
Dreaming in vibrant colors
of royal blues
blushing pinks
charming yellows
soothing greens
sultry reds.
And yet
I have no Object.
No signficant "other"
to enjoy
these colors with.
No point for romance
No reason for fancy.
No "one"
to dream
beside.
Nay, for when I think
of what
Once I had
You.
You're just brown.

So my adventures are shared
with the likes of
Henry the bicycle
Charlie the swing
Riley the ukulele
The jets;
my gang of paintbrushes.

Music is made
by a piano
not by our hearts.
Feelings are caused
by a good book
not by your arms
around me . . .
Emotion is caused
by the dying of the grass
not by a day
of missing you.
My want
is stirred
by a ham-sandwich
not by your
fine eyes.

And yet
I am content.
Why should I not be?
For this is how
most of my life
spent itself.
And why
should I
give you the credit of a drug?:
Just once
a certain high attained
forever sucking pleasure
away from all
that once held
wonders before.
Nay, No, and Nein
I shall not give you that
I shall glory in my
rides with Henry
Soar in spirit
flying with Charles
Laugh so sweetly
to Riley's lovely
inspiring melodies.
You shall not suck
my joy from my canvas.
You shall not extract
the music from my heart.
You shall not cause
a good book to be boring
And you shall not make me
a dull
unfeeling creature.

Out, out
I say
to the ruddy
depressing browns.
In with the blue
the shine!
the pink delights!
The yellow flight!
The contented sighs
of green lullabies!
The Robust Red
Marching on ahead!
The mystery of black!
And the purity of white!
The beauty of the day!
And the wonders of the night!