sun and moon

say you see girl walking down the street, setting foot onto the moon, then the sun. how beautiful, how peculiar, how mystical, how intangible—a typical mind must contemplate. i cannot say the same for me, dressed in dreams. my sleep washed head incentivizes my fingers to reach out. the cow jumped over the moon.

to my great sadness on the spectrum of definitely human and definitely cow, the girl is on the most utmost end of humankind. if it shan't cow, it shan't, my brain reverberates from and to thin wires—daring tightropes. with a soft smile of slumber, i nod, letting my submissive fingers grab the moon and the sun.

the sun for my right hand, the moon for my left and my conscience gives a tirade. my head is of fog; i give a laugh in the stead of my classic loquaciousness. i need not bother when i have darkness and light. to dire's temperament i soothe its belligerence, wafting my victory back and forth like the tick and the tock of the clock striking milky way’s existence. though, as kind as i am, in allowing reminiscences to entourage, i give up not my sun and moon.