My friend, he is.
Clean and discreet.
Up there above me, on the roof.
Doing whatever. (I don't know either.)
Waiting for me, one morning.
But I kept going the other way.
At least that's how I saw it.
Through my one open eye.
Which is about as far as I can count then.
Flowers wake earlier, look better. But can't count either.
Right there. Right here.
At the middle of things.
Say something to each other.
And maybe to me. I'm not sure.
Stand back. You can say you saw it.
Versus vice versa.
I know what you're thinking. Not much.
So just keep staring at the colors until something happens.
If you are in pane.
Or trapped by the blues.