Sep 17

tomorrow in the morning

it's all a dream.

i see it in the way the peaks of the mountain
scrape the deep blue sky.
cutting jagged edges 
leaving scars. 

you spoke of the places you wished to go
the globe spinning at your fingertips.
but again,
how do you know they're real
when you've never stepped far from home?

i imagened the way i'd float on the clouds
right away
the day we finally learned to fly.
if i ever made it that far
i would probably have fallen down to the hard reality:
you know it as earth.

some call it love

i call it 

it doesn't matter though.
tomorrow morning
we will probably
have forgotten.