errant skies, orange like sherbert
clouds of grey slowly move by unfettering my ear,
lost times i couldnt heal,
i break free on the taste of ice cream on my tongue
as the clouds around where i fly form a pond
in which i soak in.
the stillness of water. calm wave
in the shallows.
whisked to a burling bastion of a blue school of fish their
scales shining the new found suns light reflecting off my eyes as sparkles
that happen to fall and turn to purple soda and land on my tongue.
whisking around in my form of glee, a new scape of snow and snow
covered grass and snow
falling amid twirling streetlighted paths.
As I fall and I land too and then stand in an old jacket and in my old fleece hat.

The cold of those nights.
Like taking a breath mint but it always stayed somewhere placed within your head. The core, i guess. If you placed yourself right, snugged yourself tight, you'd be an unstoppable machine against the cold.
And with it came the power of being in that ubiquitous beauty.
Every single snowflake.
A present.
I bask in it
It might be bad right now i think to say at THIS moment in THIS time,
That it tastes a little like you
But I don't deny the truth