Sky High.

I’ve dreams retained from yonder times

beyond the sun and seven skies.

Of scrolls that stretch from east to west

and ink that fills whatever’s left.

Soft sheets of ice drift this way

beyond the time we call Today.

And soon they melt into love’s tears,

burned by nights of lonely fears.

Hearts split by shrill yells of crowds

as summertime pierces through the clouds.

Clouds, comprised of purest dreams,

engulf the final teary streams,

never to flow again.

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