Ars Nova

Like a dream in glowing
Morse code you explain
That you are waiting in an
Airport but you don’t know
Where or what the plane is.
So I think of you sunny & pensive
In Newark airpot, looking into
The light before those oppressively
Large windows – your eyes growing
Greener, more perceptive in the
Daytime clarity, waiting. The
Decisions always come, inevitably,
But it’s in the waiting, the
Hard, soul-crushing sitting that
The patient are rewarded
With the truth of their own
Naked being, the path that opens
Before them, the planes that
Spread their arms wide,
Hugging the sky, sleeping like
Babies, content, on milky clouds
Into their own heaven.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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