A winter’s breeze

Sing me a song of a long time ago and watch me wheeze through the days long night. Fall me across a winter's breeze and watch me drip across a long pink sink. Caress me around the purple sky and watch me sizzle in a rich cream pie.  Say goodbye to the long week's hour and watch me relax in the weekend's file. She sat alone and watched the shadows of darkness splay across the brightly lit headlights of the drifting cars. The flourescent hues of the bus station somehow eased her tension as she sipped coffee and watched the people milling about in a rush of excitement bundled down with bags and gifts and all things pleasant. They would soon be comfortably numb drifting off to sleep watching the shadows of trees along the yellow dotted line from here to there. Then there was the others encased in large coats and tattered shoes, gnawed mitts and red roughened cheeks. They milled about seeking the warmth of the shelter scrapping together change for coffee. She sat down with one and listened to the skill of his words and the stories strung together in interesting taglines of who they were and what they'd done, never talking about the now beyond the space of philosophy's art. Soon, she too would get up and straggle off leaving behind her an empty cup of warmed coffee.