my thought; I thought that cloud was the sun and
wished it for a second when. When let
my bright be body bright future. Somehow
roses change the subtitles. We are to
gether. Her arms around me. That dear shape
an empty bucket marked orange roses.
A branch in my way joy. Gold beyond white
for no reason. My own park nowhere
near this. Celebrated cauliflower
puffs; looking up in a parking lot. Too
many vases waiting unimportant
paths to Eden. Even color has
speech. Can you hear the space in the day?