Water streams

Water streams,
The leaves are green.
Far too distracting,
For thoughts unclean.

The day is blue,
Crystal even.
Yet still somehow,
Things aren't clearer

Friday or Monday.
We end or begin.
I can't keep up.
As usual, I’m behind.

Thrust the pages,
Compiled like wires.
So rests my soul,
On stacks of tyres.