The Tainted Windows of Perception Reflection

The morning forlorn

After stormiest grays

By the rooftop is borne

The residual rains

A mellifluous sound

Pitter-patter atop

The tin ticking in rhythm

To my alarm clock

To be tranquilly roused

From intermittent slumber

Dispelling my scatter-brain dreams

As the thunder

Recedes from the night before's

Boisterous bellows,

Awakes to the break of day's

Mellowest yellows

And shades of the silhouette trees

At high noon

Complimenting the hues

Of my colorless blues

But contrasted against

Scintillating elation

Of past paradise's

Fragmented mentation

Demented dimensions

Of polychromatic

Prismatic

Ecstatic

Sporadic sense

Magic

The tricks that it played

On my mind

Automatically

Made in my image

A timeless depravity

Gravity swept off its feet

With a stroke

Of a heart so replete

With the ones that it broke

And oh how it wrote

Of lament penitence

To dispense with such beauty

I haven't seen since