Enshrined in silvery haze above,
Darkened seams begin their unraveling 
Like threadbare clothing still darling to its owner
Slivers of sunlight peeking out of loosened strings 

Underneath lies, in lieu of star-studded hue, 
Liquid gold, pouring into the newborn sky
Drizzling atop darkness instead of coin molds
Promising another day

Casts light upon the rolling sage peaks 
Beaming upon tenderly budding wildflowers 
A harbinger of the spring duly anticipated 
Yet destined to never arrive.

For if the sky-seams unravel, 
Unto where will its threads tumble? 
Nothing could truly be animate 
Within a gilded frame. 
Picturesque to naive passers-by,
It almost glows from the attention.
But what use could a pretty confine
Serve for its perpetual prisoner?

A thing of wings flutters about,
Perhaps yearning for distant lands
Yet the victim of a cruel kismet
Confinement to a still wonder

Where the sun will never set.