Alabaster blues

Please, make  me something pretty  I can force moments into.

These old  tin cans  cannot carry all I meant at  all.

At times I could squeeze them into a ball

And throw them in the water white and black,

These rusty indecisions, no great matter, after all;

Sunsets and a spotless sigh, you and a smile,

This and somewhat more before I finally fall.

As translucent  vessels  they may be worth while

Floating down the ancient  river never to come back.

                                                              jadoablu