Tuesday afternoon.

If numbers flew like birds,

would feathers dust their wings?

Or do colors shine

through skin so thin

between tiny toes on backs?

Do colors sound like crashes

making paint fly through the air?

Or upon shared terms

they make their mark

smudging trails along the way?

If letters knew the alphabet,

would they find their place in line?

Or are they tired of

their stable home

beside others they make not like?

Do clouds use roadside signs

to lead them on their way?

Or does chaos fly

among the skies

on a lazy, rainy day?

Is my mind supposed to work this way

putting things here instead of there?

Or maybe not,

but I enjoy the thoughts

on a Tuesday afternoon.