| Suppose we were never children and there are no carousels, no santa clauses, house lizards-- not dragons, nothing hidden fireflies merely fireflies in the night. Then all we could return to was confusion. Imagining in stead of money and non-magical skies. There is that pause. This is that-- pause-- before we want that thought of clouds forming fists, we wanted first rain, and puddles to splash in, and maybe a cup of cocoa to keep away the fever-
dreams. But sunlight touches you now and your fingers search for the sweet treasures of a flower.
It is night. Sunlight happened earlier. This is only me, imagining. As I did when I was a child.
-- Sasha, Joel, Pancho V., Waps, Mia, Glenn, Pancho A., Javier, Den, Mikael Labels: poetry, renga, writing exercise |
