Spinning my imagination in the sky,
colours dancing on top of clouds,
umbrellas letting loose in the gates of heaven.
They say heaven is a safe space.
I wonder if they stay beneath this beauty in clouds
or if they’re tied up in fairies.
There are infants in boxes under bridges,
but that’s not at the top of the list now.
I will settle here in my sleeping bag
and wait for horns to blow.
Maybe then something will shake.