In heaven there are no roads, <br />Only clouds we drift through with light feet, <br />And the years are shorter too <br />with no more counting of days. <br />And there are no poisonous plants to keep the flowering ones from growing. <br />And no colorless animals that are easy to taxidermy. <br />Only the white blanket that is neither snow nor confusion <br />Nor cold… <br />This warmth that rushes down my limbs. I sense <br />What I must drink.<br /><br />MARINA GIPPS<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-year-2/
