twistangle

incredibly real.
watch the clouds float by
grey-blue-black-white

i'll paint the starry sky for you tonight

bend the rays of the sun
into a shelter, over
your beaten and weathered mind

i'll keep your many troubles out of sight

and drink the dew that
materialises every morning
lands unknown.

i'll tell you, all your troubles, they are mine

the dewdrops? perhaps they were ferried by planes. little elf-planes that wheel and twist dangerously over the ground. and one false nudge of the wheel, one overzealous pilot, one wild stab in the dark

and

crash.

what an incredible silence.