i see the signs
they're written in the sky
and only readable
in between the lines
and tilt my head
my gaze set high
i reach for clouds
to let me fly
and in the dead of night
the stars and moon speak
and i swear if you listen close enough
they'll sing t'ill you fall asleep
as my head brushes against the grass
the dew melts into my fabric;
i suddenly realize that clouds are made of
imaginative magic.
