lost

Lost
a poem by Troy Cady

The sky today is singular.
I am rapt.
Wrapped tight,
so close,
I cannot recall
a single rhyme
(for today the sky is sing
ular
and
tomorrow He will bring
you there).

Today the sky is right,
but my mind is frightened
to find a rhyme.
I am like
a sight
less
orphan groping for a dime.

It is no lie
to say the sky
is all I have.
Rapt in seas above,
I am
wrapped,
but halved,
torn by two hands
(so now
the sky is all I have).

This air will do.
Meet my wife,
the sky.
This new life
is not like
flying.
It is more like
lying,
not trying
to find the
perfect rhyme
but the broken
lie
and bid it
good bye.

This air will do.
The sky today is singular.