"August Sun"
I fade in and out of the clouds.
It's hard to hear the music conductor.
I hang by my toes from a cumulus cloud.
Can't see the world right side down.
There are tomato and ketchup snowfalls.
I am part of the stew made in the halls.
These kitchen halls have no walls.
Waiting for the sun to come.
A dose of sunlight.
Not the darkness of the night.
The night gets bright.
It rains bean dust.
A coffee dust storm in the sand.
Let me have water to quench my parched throat.
Ice crystals in front of the sun dry the air.
Making it stale and hard for me to inhale.
My throat is dry and my face is pale.
What should we do if I stall, then fail?
By Anonymous Bosch alias J. Billet's
08.06.2010
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