Reaching across the sky,
Fingers of Green and Gold-A cathederal
Of Trees now grow brown
With the new taste of Winter's cold.
Limitless Blue to grow into.
Making a crude sound as our branches
Try day after day to finally touch a cloud
At the height of my muse, I dream
The Sky is falling.
Will the Trees save us with their arms
And piece the blue back together
When a shattered sky falls?
(c) John Ratliff July 31, 2006
Author notes
Written July 31st, 2006
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cool...where are you John?! email me..please...krisdawng@gmail.com
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