They were prison cells
Driving deeper into me
Watching my colour drain
Clearing all sorrow
And then the heat would come

* * *

Gently shovelling away the clouds
Poised on the mountains on the horizon
Creeping in like rolling carpets
Gorging on the ropes of life
And then digging in tightly

What the slips of sentience said
Yellowing grain fields and dimes
Hearty bellows on the chimes of the day
Greeting the returning milkmaids
Reaching out to the night

Dreams and fantasies always simmer
Dissipate in the breeze of the dawn
Trimming the woods of their roots
Grooming the phantoms lovingly
And wandering stars.