getting nowhere fast and the springtime that is here

sitting and writing
cheap poetry and simple words
to give a solemn goodbye
to an old world
where my letters no longer
stay on the lines.
yes.
to this another goodbye...
and an old song sings "outside
the rain is falling on the leave.."
to me it's something more
an open door where rhyming
makes something lovely
and
and leaves it at the threshold.
something quiet our loud
I can't really tell (either way)
what's on the other side...
and six simple words,
almost nothing, left years ago
at the bottom of a page.
gutter words.
where the most beautiful things
spend their times:
"i hope the colors overwhelm you."