White Aeroplane

The white aeroplane
like a little fish
flits between the clouds
of the afternoon sky.
It tows the dream
of the person I could be
behind it
leaving streaks of
across the landscape.

Behind a cloud
beyond the reach of my eye
out of my mind.

I try to smell the burnt
broken frame
of the little fish body, thrashing,
choking on the terrible flames.
The dreams make a bright blue bonfire
in the darkness
inside my mind.

But the plane just fades into blue-ness.

The clouds sail by
as though nothing happened.
They would always be changing,
always moving,
even if nothing else does.

A crow flaps his wings
and caws hoarsely.
He would never steal
a dream from me.


2 thoughts on “White Aeroplane

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