Drifting into the unknown,
two heads hit a soft pillow.
Unsure where their roads may go,
certain they’ll find morning.
From the sky, a morning stroll
raindrop butters raspy roll.
Loving leaks into the fold,
a bite to taste she’s out there.
Is she still painting with diamonds?
Does he still speak with the wind?
Put us in the future, make right now the past.
Diamonds crack rhyming with the wind, then a win.
We will never be ready, so we might as well begin.
From the earth, a morning bloom.
Reaching, blossoms edit gloom,
deadhead worry and consumed,
some growth to see he’s out there.
Drifting in from the unknown,
yawning eyes, a soft pillow.
Unsure where the day may go,
and they don’t mind this morning.