You're such a blenderful of feathers!
Let's tell stories all night:
you'll turn me pliably delighted.
Its all warm flannel, and the cries of birds;
imagine for me, that I can speak to you 
in Welsh, and fly. It's late. I'll sleep.
I might dream your fairy tales. Maybe 
I am still doing this, in some woolly room, 
with moonlit crosses sweeping angular 
across the mountains of featherbed.
Breathing cool air. Fluttering. I will
fly over the sea for you. Dive into
dreams, sweep across me rough
with your feathers, your fairy tales, 
with everything you know. 
_____

Tay Arrow Sherman

"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious 
attractiveness of others." -Oscar Wilde

1KRT: http://www.one38.org/
1(617)983-8137
AIM: Adopted Clownfish



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