the moon
draped in cloud
for her
far below

a dream of flying

if I could control my dreams
I’d dream of flying
way up in the clouds
like Arthur Dent
and Fenchurch
me with a billowing dress
you removing it in mid air
wet with wispy cloud mist
hands slipping and sliding
on your skin, lips locked
and drifting, spiralling
floating in the moonlight
in a long embrace
hanging in the sky
in much the same way that bricks don’t



I’m a walking talking cliché factory

Opening the curtains today
I’m greeted by a rainbow
I could take it as a sign of hope
Or I could take it as a sign
Of science and refraction
And random chance of
Sunlight and raindrops being
In the right place
At the right time

But the darkness and light
Unite to create something
Whatever I think

Looking out now from the kitchen
On the other side
The sun is struggling
to emerge from the clouds
But just as I stop and stare
It breaks free, nearly blinding me
With its brightness

Is the universe really trying to tell me something?
Or should I fetch my cloak of cynicism
And put it back on, quickly
Before I’m fooled

Happy Ever After?
Messages in the sky?
The future’s bright?
Yeah, right!