№ III up is down

The clouds are burdened

in fact, the whole of heaven is blue

some sort of majestic navy, with faint touches of pink-grey.

It started one morning

for no apparent reason,

now rays can’t heat the limbs

of the wild

and the huge orange night adventurer

can’t penetrate the seeming solidity.

We can’t bade in her beauty.

It’s a shame really.

The only sounds we hear are sirens below

and furious hammer swinging above,

young hearts are confused

not knowing how to decipher


Volpe -thumb-680x923-170746


~ by Aquatic Poetry on June 6, 2015.

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