Yellow green ochre brown
laying a silent trail
to the crown where
the air meets the sky.
The thunder and rainkiss
before the mirrorlake ripples
to the dreams of clouds
with a bit of coffee smoke
mixed up in it on the way down.
Later, as the sun sets over rainbow puddles
on patchwork cobblestones
the tiny boats huddle together
to trade stories of the day’s adventures
and other such mundane things,
And as the trinkets in shops go
softly out of focus at dusk,
we leave our reflections behind
in the lake and breathe deep
the memories wafting out as
graffiti and smoke and melody.
Hold in a bit of this stranger land forever.
This way, every tale from now on
will be of Adventure
and other such mundane things.
Stranger Land – part II
