The Chair Smiles
Artichokes like Comets
Artichokes fly under the quiet sky,
Fire forms leaving a trail of light.
Artichokes like fireballs,
Approaching as August awakes.
Two forms with no clouds around,
Metal shapes with a gilt cover,
Moving forwards just for us.
Artichokes navigating the sky.
There was a time, when we didn’t
Our eyes were fixed on the floor
And the past.
Now artichokes fly like comets,
As our feet feel the warm sand,
And you ask me if we should make a wish
Or start to run.
We run following the golden artichokes’
Path. There’s only the future now.