England My England

Blue Skies

Empty like the vast skies exhaling vacuous words, which only he observes. The loner strolls the confines of his chair, inept, self fulfilled, but a loner nonetheless. A crackling record begins to rotate, “Blue skies smilin’ at me nothin’ but blue skies do I see blue birds singin’ a song nothin’ but blue skies from now on…..” He pauses, places his warm black cup of coffee back on his desk. Types another line for a story nobody else will read. Sits back in pleasure of his creation and then notices a reflection in his computer screen.