PALE

The day is pale.

There is no screaming

no hatred

no anger today.

The day is small

muted melancholy

modest.

Soon, we shall lack even this to call upon

as emotions

so exhilarant, so agitative

will go flat

like warm champagne

popped too quickly

too long ago.

But for now

as the summer wanes

and the weeks wash by

softly

steadily

as the sky's vibrance dies away

with the last of our hopes

the day holds some glimmer

some ambiance.

The day is pale.