Artista

Tell me again,

where will we begin our summer?

Where will we learn

how to hope, how to love,

how to cut ourselves into the night sky

to shine forever?

 

Do not let me forget you.

Forget the warmth of your words

as you wake me,

as you send me into dreams.

Give me our hope, your heart,

give me the never and forever of it all.

 

Bring me the warm breeze of a summer’s eve,

the clouds stamped out like boot prints

across the sky,

the clouds soaked in the sweet

melted honey of a dying sun.

Bring them to me on a page.

 

No? Perhaps let me run beneath your

skin, made of words and ink.

Fold me up and plug the wound,

fit me in your dreamy head.

But tear the page in pieces too,

and share me on the wind.

 

And there, new air, a sudden shock,

a deep and gasping breath.

No room for me

on word stained page.

Artista, a new world

made out of what was left.

 

So send away the gold crunch leaves,

the dim of the sky.

Smash the sun into pocket pieces

so that I might take these days with me.

So that I, with new feathered wings,

can fly.

 

© Hayley New 2016

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