Cloud 9
Force ten
Apollo 11

I'm high in the sky
Driven like the wind
But walking on the moon

She came in a thousand unsolved pieces

A myriad of ways to be put back together

But none complete her...

she was for a year or two.
Sweeping floors she recited verbs
"je suis / tu es / il est"
while her fiancé crawled in the army.

Belittled immigrants,
the madam had many,
locking doors at night
to block the son out.

The madam is dead now,
naught but a pinch in the chest
from a street, a play,
a remindful sweep.

Effulgence of the brightest star
That evermore beams from afar.

Resplendency of the dawn dew
Beaming forth with a silvery hue.

Opalescence of a neon rainbow,
Or the luster of winter snow.

Glitter of a moon-kissed sea
Murmuring with sheer glee.

Hues of a polychromatic sunset
Upon heaven's stonking gate.

Glow of buds of a rose-gold sheen,
Or snowy lilies by meadows green.

The sparkle of a sun-kissed stream
Whispering along like a sweet dream.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California. 11/05/19.