bouncing off clouds, by Tori Amos (I like the whole package)
. . .written November 1993 during a rough patch of my life. All better now;)
Subtle surprises litter my days
As if the yellow dandelions
of spring fame
were not enough
to yellow the green.
I never see beyond
the drift of yesterday
And even then is hazy
So when I long to breath
The last in a desperate
series of days
I spread my wings
And fly against my shadow
Superimposed
infinitely rimming an icy
mirror
And pausing a moment in
my frantic flight
I look deep into her eyes
and recognize her need
Give her more
Than she can give me.
And then we dance
across the startled green
amongst
the dandelions.
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