...To the sky II

 I dreamt of a land like Coleridge - a distant Zanzibar or Xanadu
Where water flows up and birds can talk and dogs can sing well too

Where nonsense words from Edward Lear, Lewis Carrol or Monty Python
are understood as simply as if they were just spoken - three, two, one

where broken hearts and moral codes are swapped for vanilla ice cream
and lashings and lashings of ginger ale or beer.

a fantasy land where in our minds we run through forests and plains
with the wet cut grass sticking to our ankles and shins

where panting breaths and cheeky grins and dirty nothings are spoken
without the slightest fear of rejection or pain or discovery

where innocence and guilt are lost and in the silly moment
we lean towards eachother - unspoken contact unbroken

and hold that gaze forever - lost in the flight of fancy
where your wings take you up to the edge of the sky