In the sky
Is tiny moving pieces
So high,
Of tiny flowers ( the ones I picked before summer) now potpourri —
The smell that was a perfume, so strong
It drifted to summer, so soon...
The sky began to melt like wax... in a hot house, in it little pieces of glass.
These copper shards are my past,
Thats now an hour ago
The hours pass on.
The tangerine and apricot sky —
I count - 6 apricot pips left in the sky.
I sit, collecting awe, casting away debris, corporal reality.
Lost at far...