if ceiling gave way
books to fall down
their plot missed, a story never scribbled into the margins
hopefully no lamp in the east kept up, burning.
And only walls to scale, sky to grab, mountains to sip
water-proof sunscreen, mud that doesn't stick to the bottoms of shoes,
eyes wide at the sun.
Under the moon, the lamp in the west still up, burning.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 1:47 AM UTC
if ceiling gave way
books to fall down
their plot missed, a story never scribbled into the margins
hopefully no lamp in the east kept up, burning.
And only walls to scale, sky to grab, mountains to sip
water-proof sunscreen, mud that doesn't stick to the bottoms of shoes,
eyes wide at the sun.
Under the moon, the lamp in the west still up, burning.
The light always left on, in my room anyway
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