I sometimes like to wish that I had wings
It makes me dream that I could, in the sky,
Fly up, and rush around the clouds, and fly
So far and fast, like lovely feathered things.
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I want to fly through clouds that form like rings
And hear the wind’s enormous bellow-cry
That echoes in my ears as I pass by
Each cloud is like an angel, and it sings!
But this is just a dream, a silly dream
I cannot fly. I never, never will.
No closer to the sky than a sunbeam
I ever will get. So I’ve had my fill
Of dreams. And so the bird that I do seem
To be in my mind, sings its lonely trill.
My love is like a glass of finest wine,
So thick and rich and rosy-hued, and full
Of flavor. Tingling on the lips, as mine
(My love) does keep my heart both warm and cool.
Both warm and cool! As chilled wine cools me through,
But warms me inside. So, too, does my love
Both warm my heart and heat me up towards you,
But cools me off like snow falling from above.
And just as wine can leave us reeling drunk,
And laughing at the smallest thing, well, then,
My love intoxicates me, like the trunk
Of elephants send giggles by the dozen.
In short, my wine-like love I’ll always drink
And in that bottle do I hope to sink.
My brain is like a desert
No motion seen – the sands sit still,
The mind works invisibly, skull-shrouded.
Yet who can count the grains of desert sand?
And who can count the thoughts of a mind?
The sandstorm heaves up, sand is sent
The mind thinks – thoughts and ideas can go
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