Today, I am a neon stream
A moonbeam
Falling from grace
Across the face of the earth
I tumble and turn
Like a warm autumn burn
Who cackles by night
And crackles at dusk
But yesterday, not so much
I rode a cloud home
Finding myself rubble
Grazing the stubble of his chin
I’m counting sheep
Telling them to go home
And they didn’t listen
I fret from seeming jolly
Melancholy, said the beast
So I ate the nearest star
And jumped it’s peaks from afar
Sailing into a coarse, rough hair
Belonging to the morning sun
And the day before
I bit into an apple core
And tasted home