In the twilight of being in the midst of CA.
A rebel on the Pacific shores, no sunglasses.
O, how now, blue flag with white.
To console you would make everything right.
Without thine Starbucks in hand,
How dost thou wave upon the land.
How dost thou with your symmetry
Compose the form of poetry.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX in white
Is for sore eyes a lovely sight.
Break'st thou my heart to see you too,
For your color is a shade of blue.
Take my hand and lead the way.
I see the pride that you convey.
Alas, no journey ever spent
Could mend the holes that you have rent,
Scar of lands of days before,
Traces of the chill-ed shore.
What's this, alack, for all anon.
I lost my train of thought in po'm
You art but a flag, a shade of blue.
I really don't care enough to make this last line rhyme or even fit in with the poem itself.
Word up, yo.
Peace.
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