Murky grey skies, a plane flew by,
Perched, a sparrow came to say hi.
Stale air, a breath of smog,
Thoughts itching, like a flea ridden dog.
The allure of a well written line, a shaky bridge for those unfocused thoughts,
Even here, even now, there’s a need to put it down before it rots.
I have an idea… sort of… kinda?
If only my mind isn’t like a Mardi Gras.
Riot, fancy, please let me draw it out,
Crows, oh just shut it you screaming lout!
A line or two, a vision it makes,
At least there’s that to let bake.
Dang this, bugger it, I call it a day,
It’s not happening, what else can I say?