you paint it
golden, you know...
Sun, good job
on that whole
deal. You turned this
ugly strip into
something more than
a mother could love.
and as it goes down,
taking those ugly
dishwater fluffs that
I am ashamed
to each call
Cloud, and setting them back
on the horizon with
sparkling amethyst slabs
decorating each city
window
I decide, Hey,
when you do your
job so,
beautifully the
day
is not wasted
And as long as
you keep bringing me
nights full
of stars
and a living earth
in the morning
Everything will
be just
fine.