Into Blues

Blue smoke of fallen years
Before the pale eyelids
We see at the midnight peace
And world comes to the corner
With dusty dew flowing.

The anticipated anguish
And the ability of old fire talks
Weeping beside flicker
They call those works of extravagances.

But have you wondered why?
No one come
In all redefined harmonic things
To feel the old distinguished kindness.

Call it the beginning of card game
Or a ballroom dance
Faces will identify all baked and washed
And the blue smoke will be thereIn printed notes and dusty cards games.