Like a broken cloud of tiny pieces
The sky fills up with black
But it's not an ominous crisis
But an ever-changing skyward map.
It's organic, alive, moving,
Creating ribbons which dance and flow
Each turn and twist makes art
With purpose and a journey to go.
A mass of bodies create patterns
Which changes with every ebb
A beautiful cloud of darkness
Which always turns my head.
YOU ARE READING
Shorts: A Collection
RandomA small compendium of one-shots, poems, musings and random things. If you feel like seeing something different please feel free to comment or message with a request and I'll give it a whirl. I like the challenge of something unexpected. Lovely cove...
