We watched the lightning making
paper lanterns of the clouds,
frail globes amidst the Indian peninsulas of the storm.
The thunder sounded a gong hung
amidst that veritably heavy anvil of heaven.
Now that's what I call heaven,
your heart beat-beating off tempo with mine
in the heart of prairie Chinatown.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
We watched the lightning making
paper lanterns of the clouds,
frail globes amidst the Indian peninsulas of the storm.
The thunder sounded a gong hung
amidst that veritably heavy anvil of heaven.
Now that's what I call heaven,
your heart beat-beating off tempo with mine
in the heart of prairie Chinatown.
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