Least five in a straight line,
Moving swiftly over a sheet of clouds,
Where the sun always shines,
Then one-by-one they’re caught in tree branches,
Stood impossibly high,
My feet dangling over the basket’s side,
Clouds so wet, pants get soaked up to the thigh,
I climb out onto a near tree platform,
With the rest of the fleet,
To watch a drummer a few trees away,
Starting us on a beat,
Completely new,
For the new life we found,
I’m not sure what, but that dream said something,
Meant for the me set firmly on the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment