PLASTIC PIECES

plastic falling pieces
into ember-tear drops
and those tree roots
pulling at my leaf-heart
there’s a fire burning
devouring all I see
I could cry like a crow
but my spirit’d rather soar
and people dance and trip
across the blink of an eye
a measure of their life
less than a yawn from nature
and plastic falling pieces
never shatter when they fall
only leaving psychedelic patterns
all across my mind
but I love to walk in a rain
made of broken sharp shards
of blue stained glass

:: 04-24-2014 ::