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Source: http://alicexz.deviantart.com/art/The-Lights-203459866?q=sort:time gallery:alicexz via hannah-saur on The Matboard

 

In a world that lives in a tree…

(a faraway world that’s mostly unseen) :

 

Here, the seasons stay fresh, pink roses don’t fade,

balmy evenings stretch their arms up to the sky,

and orange sunsets grow upon branches,  all ripe and juicy.

 

 

Here, morning is a tattoo on a white eucalyptus face,

a saffron-turbaned man going around a banyan

murmuring a motorized morning prayer…

a bird preening its feathers on the telephone wire,

and parrots screeching like a train delayed,

the sun dawdling on the edge of the roof exchanging

idle gossip with a faint ghost moon…

Here, morning is a shy strand of honey breeze passing through town

an old song trembling uncertainly on the lips of a lovelorn  dawn…

 

Some days, the world in the tree with its

pensive sunsets, all juicy and ripe,

its tattoo mornings, soggy with moon and song,

comes alive.

 

And the sun forgets it must return to its den in the dark…

…and as you turn away, the tree dances away

to the edge of the stars…

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