black and white stripes <br />this is nothing to bother your night sky <br />deep in those sugar blue eyes <br />around in a field while you're never alone <br />this key is opening something <br /> <br />hearts are unsure because of their work <br />my limbs can feel it- this <br />is coming up to meet us <br />this dances down every street <br />maybe you're made of paper sheets <br /> <br />God, and wings pinned to prayers <br />help this, if your trumpet stings me <br />whistle me to sleep, and i'll crack a window <br />this can't be trapped up, the lions close their dreams <br />when it swirls around them in peace <br /> <br />like towers standing still, a ghost ponders this <br />the group of birds senses it <br />sharp like a jagged edge of this year <br />you are getting braver every time <br />fresh air and the river of wine <br /> <br />little pictures shoot across <br />I am lifting my hands and taking this <br />you return yourself so much and for so many reasons <br />I melt in moonlight when you say you're sure that <br />this is happening to us<br /><br />Scott Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-13/
