Forgotten dreams clutch at the windowpane

In the form of freshly birthed tears falling from

The sun’s forsaken lover’s eyes, rung with

Unsympathetic stares from the dour faced lemons

Left as dry whispers of summer left on the cutting

Board, hopes dancing across the emotionless face

Of the pond like dried rose petals.

Students hide their chameleon smiles

Behind ornate origami dreams, attempting to

Conceal the scales upon their eyelids and the

Quicksilver dart of their forked serpent’s tongue.

Students of a forgotten art, smelling of tangerines

And cheap dollar store glitter, drifting down like

Lazy origami cranes, spreading gossamer wings

Spun of spider silk as they cascade into tomorrow,

Into a lake stained of tangerine peel promise.

Not yet ready to relinquish the indolently trailing

Tail of the kite of yesterday, though the cracked and

Aged envelope of my heart sighs like lovers apart with the

Knowledge that such a slender whim cannot take me to silvered

Sunrises. And so I tuck the fading crimson bloom of the hibiscus of yesterday

In the sun-kissed russet-gold of my locks, and turn the ponderously

Cresting oceans of my eyes towards the first maiden’s blush of the dawn

Of Tomorrow.

And so idle fingers slide down the piano keys of my

Heart, stirring within a foreign new bitter-sweet symphony,

While ivory hands hear my silent plea, and turn my aged

Music pages upon the stand carefully, leaving nothing

But a whisper of the future, scented like fresh rain and bruised rose petals.