A pallid cloak dulls the senses
turning bright colors into hazy pastels,
dimming rainbows until they become
almost but not quite monochromatic.
Frustration: seeking something essential
but, not knowing what it is, it’s somewhat hard to find.
Empty inner feelings:
the old friends you wish were long lost.
Odd that it’s not usually there when you sleep,
it’s a waking thing. Subliminal echoes and shadows
just out of range, hints leaking in from the future,
but so damn cryptic.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, November 11, 2011; all rights reserved