The sky is a formation of wonder, the blue mile stretches forever and a day covering our midnight sky and painting our rainbows ever brighter and our oculars twinkle and become visions of the Venus sunlight
THE STORY OF THE SKY
We don't have to look far, the headlights are looming clearly ahead of our path in life, the storm is blown to the other side of the Zeus and Hera angry heated fights. The moon has cooled the two Gods collision and thrown a path for us to walk shielded under the jubilant stars of Thor's silver night
A BOUQUET IS A MAGICAL THING TO RECEIVE, LIKE THE SKY FALLING INTO YOUR HANDS, AND AN ANGEL CRYING RIVERS ON THE ROSES ON OUR LADY OF LOURDES FEET
She is the Queen
She hold the sky's bouquet neatly inbetween her fingers
She never stops, shirks or lingers
She reaches up and kisses the moon
Above the stratasphere she pliers in her ballet shoes
She is an Aztec princess
A spectacular mirage of a Pocohantas Indian feline
A Cleopatra of the Roman country
A petal, fallen on the bed of Marc Antony
To be taken a hundred times and be transformed into a lake of dianthus and tiger lily
