Midday's Reverie

I couldn't being helped but to watch your eyes
Of the most common color of the varied arrays
Displayed by nature, brown as the ever falling leaves
Something was in those light spheres, particular ways.

The light of a son of Apollo stole a reflex
As if the triangle could have reached
Performing Nature's whole display
Of white, green, aquamarine.

Not even the richest fountain or a flossy rainbow
Could reach the powerful tormento
Of seeing them and still, lay without them
As in a midday's ethereal reverie.

And the nocturnal whistle begins again
through the mention of thy happy jade
Nevertheless that acquaintance will never proceed
as a rainbow in a reverie.

Old School

I sat where the old school used to be,
Numberless voices coming to and fro,
Ancient halls of forgotten wisdom,
Long had pass which now steals my memory.

Nearby there was a brown garden,
Remembrance of a nostalgic lark,
And I recall my mother used to tell me:
"Where art thou my young" like a bark.

Desolate prairie, where are you going,
Are you leaving for the Red Brick to come?
Are you truly not coming,
Or is my dreadful thought of boredom.

I sat nearby the ancient tree,
Where my school has long been forgotten
But now there's the Big Red Brick;
Great, imposing standing from aloft.