by Dawnell Harrison
The roots of the clouds
Were firmly planted
In the sky –
They could not be uprooted
Like a turnip.
The dark asylum of my mind
Liked the dreariness,
The foreboding clouds.
It gave me a place
To rest my sun-drenched
Eyes from days gone by.
I twirled in my sleep as
The world’s tears slipped
From my side.
From:
Dawnell Harrison
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Last updated February 11, 2013