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THE SKIN OF THE SKY DRAPES OVER US...

Dave

2008-07-28 04:23:11

Creative Writing

He lays beneath the sky like a blanket,
his book like a pillow.
A story written in folds of fabric
and he sleeps...
his dreams a work of fiction.
They weave between story lines
and the more he dreams
the more his life becomes a sub plot
to a love story between soil and sky.
He feels small.
Why shouldn't he?
On the time line of forever
he's just a single star in a prairie sky
somewhere between Orion's left shoulder
and the awesome unknown.
It moves him to tears.
A drop trickles, and he notices
the way a tear tickles your cheek
enough to make you laugh...
if you weren't already crying.
And so he manages a smile and takes in the evening air
in a deep breath
he promises to hold until the sun rises
and forces him to sigh at it's magnificence.
But his instincts prevent him.
So he lays awake listening to how incredible silence can be.
Even the silence is great.
Defeated and deflated,
he rolls over tugging on the sky,
but failing to stir it
and so is left with no covers.
Cold and belittle he falls asleep
and dreams that he's a star
looking down on a boy
laying in a field
small as himself in the sky.
Comments

Alamir

Alamir

2008-07-29 01:11:25

"It moves him to tears.
A drop trickles, and he notices
the way a tear tickles your cheek
enough to make you laugh...
if you weren't already crying.
And so he manages a smile and takes in the evening air."
This could almost be a poem on its own. I really liked it...how you focused on that contrast between tears trickling and tickling.



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