Enchanted

Let us see through a glass spritely! Let the glint defuse across the dome above, us incased, perhaps shook a bit for some artificial snowflakes but no worries, we can contort up a paper cut snowfight infused in a shiver too until it melts in hand.

Summon our windsailers and let them dance to each flit of frozen and our own divine; let one be crushed under Nature’s metamorphosis. Following the contours each leaf, now mulch, and if we cast a flame perhaps then we can usher in the next season, seasons thereafter, a half-daze sleepwalking away from our industrial glut.

Rummage some satchels, an audit each and cast away anything less; only a blanket of stars for a union of souls. Our dying light. Xylophone sprinkled through soft mallet chiming and a serenade for our eternal evening.

Our first movie steps toward Toy Story a calm 1995, and now more hopscotching to the shammy arcade near the entrance and popcorn scattered about, and I can hear the pixelated zombies mulling. Let the music through! Let the ending credit tears come too.

As I lay down at the deserted entrance, and the clock comes close to twelve, some midnight burial, so I’ll close my eyes and wait for it all again.

I’ll be here waiting. Waiting.

Waiting for you.