An hour away from one more hour away
From freedom, when the melancholy gray
Will surreptitiously become serene
As though our autumn traveled back to green
To grant a weary head a respite soft
While zephyrs bear their leisure up, aloft.

The songbirds' twittering outside, aloft
On waves unheard by one who works away
Their Sunday afternoon partake in soft
Imaginary ballads over gray 
Delays, or so they feel; like Time's gone green
With jealousy to lend to states serene.

Though Time is changeless to the true serene,
To harbor this one's soul would float aloft,
Be big enough to then contain the green
Outside from which it feels so far away;
To pacify the soul, then all the gray
Of concrete as of clouds would feel as soft.

The hours continue to expire, a soft,
Inviting bed on which to lay serene
And careless waits. The schedule on the gray
Old page fulfilled and folded, sent aloft
Transformed into an airplane, flies away
And bucks before descending on the green.

One nearly sees the day in all its green
Excitement, like a beautiful dress soft
And elegant. If one could go away
With her forever, could enjoy serene, 
Unlabored moments that are held aloft
Above necessity ignoring gray

Reality, who wouldn't trade the gray
To go eternally with lovely green?
What offering would one not hold aloft
Exclaiming, Here! if one were granted soft
Sensation in exchange? Alas, serene
Experience could carry one away.

Well, finally that time has slipped away,
The golden day reclines to tender gray.
Fatigue gives way or comes to feel serene
As one imagines lush and downy green
That soon their head will rest upon, as soft
As earlier thoughts they had held aloft.

The gray of labor wends its way to soft
Green pleasures in due time. To glean serene
Composure one might fly aloft, away.