Wednesday Morning Poetry: (v. 1.0)

Wrote this on the way to work monday.
Haven't gotten around to editing it.
Rip it apart please. Like, point your criticism gun at this sucker and don't let go of the trigger until it's a steaming mess of goo.




The moon peeked out behind the clouds that float through him and me
The sleeping stars that twitch and twinkle among the rich black sea
The wind swept out beneath us as we spread our wings in flight
The two of us with hand in hand my childhood friend and I

We flew above the dark red house among the fields of rye
Where years ago his mother sang to him a lullaby
"Sleep, my little bear and dream. Tomorrow's on its way"
"Tomorrow you'll be this much taller in a brand new day"

We flew above the dark grey house embraced by chilling cold
Where songs of playful jaunty joy have faded from the world
Where lullabys lay dead beside nepenthean black drink
Where on the lonely desk I lay amidst the swarming ink

The ink that wrote these cryptic books that I had worked to read
Machines and screens around me hummed and forced on me this creed
"Work my little bear and know, Tomorrow's on its way"
"Tomorrow you'll do this much work for tis' a brand new day"

The moon left us a slender smile as night met tawny dawn
We were left bewildered wondering where the night had gone
We took a glance and saw the stars were fading from the sky
We parted with a whisper, "We'll meet tomorrow night."

He rocked awake safe in his house among the fields of rye
Where he grew taller like was promised in his lullabye
And I awoke in this grey room with documents to write
To work I went while every moment thought about tonight.