Oh sweetest Seraphim
Arc bright lamp so luminous
I've been off a-foraging
Through this landscape so voluminous
This landscape where
Your message raised me
So high above the penguin crowds
With butterfly net and razor
I have been picking clouds.
Searching only for the sweetest
Not the over-ripe and weepy grey
Those fluffy white with crispy tops
Not whispy ones that float away.
I picked vanilla cirrus, apple stratus
All the Cherry cumulus I'm able
Even Wasabi alto-stratus
To lay upon your table.
I cup them all in ramikins
Juggle the crop for all I'm worth
Until your thought evaporates
And I return to earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment