Way up high inside the clouds she sits
beside the sun.

It’s fire and the drapes are drawn but
she drips with light.

She doesn’t understand why he closes
his eyes.

She takes it in and leaves some behind.

The weather has changed and the sky
knows too much.

They go right with such grit, she stays left and
gnaws on the bit.

The wind and vocal tone match in thread,
blustering on ahead.

The oversights, the undersights, the shadows
and the sounds.

Tumble through the weeds and willows like
drunken clowns with frowns.

Big and wide with too much pride, the sinking
ship has a fate.

She watches a rocky horror picture show inside
her pink and blue cape.

The days changed to match her fire, gave her longer
light, her favourite attire.

The sun is naked on her soul, flowing
out of control.

The dampness and mold, she burns straight through,
turns stale into bright and new.

Sparks and bubbles, taming and making a
rainbow out of dust.

The cling to troubled seas shows her where to
stand and how to run.

Time never runs out, we are eternally safe, here, there,
up high or down low.

The answer that’s always been known, has no face
but a tinted yellow lace.

Draped over scars and tears it has holes but
still nourishes the gears.

Guidance and protection from the
twos and the ones.

Bring her peace and longing
for better crumbs.

It’s a not so distant glowing,
coming and going.

Seen inside it doesn’t hide, it’s kind and calm
like a tempered tide.