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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1491558
Another quick poem... it's about hoping to recapture some feelings of childhood.
The Boy Who Poked Holes in the Sky

I used to be the boy who poked holes in the sky,
Who wondered why the moon chose him
Followed closely during car rides home.

I was the boy who wished the waning moon health
Who cited nightlight-light pollution for softening my Sistine ceiling -
Two arms full of glow in the dark stars shining unevenly across the fan galaxy
Wonder wasn't a feeling; it was a fulltime job

As I grew, my phases fell from marraige with the moon,
I watched as my beliefs burned like plunging asteroids
And left me with the cold craters of reality
Told that stars didn't have points

I am no longer the boy who pokes holes in the sky,
Yet I wait for the day my arms forget the risk of reaching
For one last dance with the moon.
© Copyright 2008 Chris Kenyon (ckenyon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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