Poetry: A Cat’s Dream, Lemon Skies, and the Melting of Time

A cat dreams of flying,
Tethered to nothing but whispers of air,
Underneath a lemon sky—
Is it a sunrise or a sunset?
The boundaries blur like fog on glass,
Slipping between the cracks of time.

A forgotten chair sways,
As the wind tells secrets,
Old and new,
Folded like paper cranes in the folds of the night.
The chair, abandoned yet listening,
Rocks back and forth,
Like a clock with no hands,
In a room that only exists in a half-sleep.

Carrots, fresh and crisp,
Stare back from the table—
A sharp orange hue in a sea of gray.
They clash with the salty tang
Of rain-soaked city streets,
Where the cracks in the sidewalk
Are filled with forgotten stories,
Littered with the ghosts of passing footsteps.
Cars hum a lullaby,
But the sky, angry with no one,
Holds no answers.

Where time doesn’t tick,
But melts like chocolate,
Falling slow and sticky from the heavens.
It collects in the corners of rooms
That have no names,
Sliding through fingertips
And the cracks in the walls.
A hand, trembling in anticipation,
Waits to scoop it up—
But the moment is already gone.

A distant bell rings—
Its sound distorted by the static of air.
It lingers in the silence,
Echoing through broken mirrors,
Shattering reflections of reflections.
What was once whole
Is now splintered into a thousand pieces—
Each fragment telling a different story,
None of them true.

And someone laughs,
A laugh that spills like wine
Across the table,
Flooding the floor with something
That was never meant to be said.
The future, dressed in all its uncertainty,
Grins at the idea of tomorrow.
It is a joke,
But no one is listening.

The sky, lemon-yellow and tired,
Cracks open, spilling light into the cracks of the world—
Not enough to heal,
But enough to make you wonder.
If time melts like chocolate,
Then perhaps we are all just
Drips of sweet and bitter
Slipping into the past.

A cat continues to dream,
Wings wrapped in invisible threads,
Its body lighter than air.
It floats, uncertain,
Underneath the lemon sky,
Where the wind whispers secrets
To chairs that no one sits in,
And tomorrow laughs,
Forgetting where it came from.

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