Soliloquy for Circles - Writers Block Poetry Contest Week 6

The song of the leaves
whistles, or softens

colors drab like
a glass of water.

The day is old,
by which I mean

shipped out this morning
for it had started to turn;

prow nudging the pier
like a new deck hand
or a fish-eyed dock cat.

The song of the sea
calls, or crests

colors vibrant like
sawdust covered floors.

The sky is overcast,
by which I mean
I wore it like a coat;

and the tide is still,
by which I mean

my smallest movements
shook stones from my pockets,

dancing circles
and breaking glass;

but the day was young,
by which I mean

I measured it in coins,
cold metal portraits,

beheaded kings
holding tight my eyes.

_{Written for @thewritersblock's linked poetry contest, check it out! Running a bit against the deadline because of edits, but there's still time if you wish to make a submission.}

_{also written for free-verse poetry maven @d-pend's revolutionary poetry initiative The 100 Day Poetry Challenge [Advanced Group] undertaken for Steemit School where @d-pend will be hosting a daily poetry show at 6 PM GMT.}