& ceiling stories
  •   1 comment

moonrise tea lover, wannabe poet
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
I wrote this past midnight last night, as you can probably tell (by the time stamps and by the quality of writing). anyways, it fit the daily prompt, so here we are!



& the clouds look close enough to touch.

they pass overhead quickly, hurrying along,

and the impossible grey-blue of the night sky parts to clear the way.

the tree tops, stripped of their leaves, look finger tips,

stretching, trying to snag a bit of cotton.


& the lazy blink-blink of an airplane passing overhead

draws my eyes away from my bedroom ceiling,

brings me to the window-pane.

the stars are simply onlookers in this little airplane's journey,

in the folds of my late-night mind,

the plane makes a stop at each and every star

and the passengers ooh and ahh at the beauty.

this one is made of crystal, and that one before

was a giant glowing moon-jellyfish.

it does not matter to them when they arrive at their destination.

they have plenty of time to waste up in the sky.


& an old paper falls out of my notebook, penned in red ink.

'idea' it says, followed by a clumsy heart.

it tells of a story I wished to write, all mapped out and ready.


& I lay down to rest, wind raging against the walls,

raging, raging, raging.

but nothing can reach me here.

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