Artichokes like Comets
The fans appeared, flying tenderly,
In a sky that once belonged to us.
Painting the horizon, yellow and red,
Playing with the clouds.
In the middle of a summer day,
Like yesterday, tomorrow, or
A year ago. The fans floated
Above us, a technicolor show.
Their owner must be looking for them,
Or perhaps he set them free, I asked,
As the fans turned in the sky.
Two colorful Japanese paper fans,
Turning high up, as we stand
And see their dance.
Two vibrant fans, red and yellow
Shapes, swirling around
Just for us.
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