bright

take my hand - take me up,
move me above the suburbs,
above the grid-mapped day to day.
higher than winter-tinged clotheslines
and copper-coloured rooftops,
leaving meandering white marks
like a wayward scrawling skywriter in the blue.
we're dreaming above in a vibrant now.
there's you and me and a patch of grass
and the landscape shifts while the sun slips;
we're sitting in the sky.
there's crumbs in our pockets
(and flowers in my hair)
an elevated picnic:
we're parked in mid-air.

some leisurely cafe-penned poetry that stutters and stumbles, trying to tell the tiny things that make this this. small, flat symbols pressed on torn paper, gleaming behind this computer screen - little flighty figments, indentations insufficient to capture thoughts and words and looks. but words are addictive.

landlocked behind rolled up windows. you say good bye a million times but you don't leave.