CRAZY GREY SKY

What’s that I long for?

What’s that smell I long?

The wafting scent of sulfurous fumes

What’s that sensation I long?

The rumble of the crumbling, rocks passing under my feet.

Or

The whispering slick parting of air as we rush along the surface.

What’s that sight I long?

The sight, of the transparent yellows, or the deep dark greens, the flashing scarlet

An endless changing chain it seems.

Like the one we ride.

What’s the sound I long?

The sound of a distinct silence,

That teams with textures but is creased by our rhythmic pace.

I am protected by the dank earthy mud below

And

A crazy grey sky above

That fades away to a plummeting blue.

-Gina Louisa