OOHH--beautiful!!
A quick, odd thing, from an off balance 3 o'clock in the morning. The sky is glass. No, really, it is. Look. You think I don't know what I throw stones at? An artist blew it once, in his spare time. He was in love with copper, you see, and his own reflection. Leaf blows into it from a passing wind, and the rain trickles through the cracks. Comits hit, stars of flame that warp the colored night, glowing pools that slowly die, until the thunder comes in rebirth. Light breaks through, harsh jagged stuff that it is, sending shards of sky, a hail of diamonds, in it’s wake. Birds brush against it, buffing away the clouds, waiting for a dreamer’s sheep. |
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Comments 1 to 2 of 2
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