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Trinket

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Come to my corner of the world, I implore you
Come, and sit beneath its calm collected skies
As the rules of reality are bent and revised
Let us shape the clouds in ways we find pleasing.

Bleeding brilliance that is difficult to fathom
Together, we can pull the moon right out of space
And while our hands remain clasped and interlaced
We'll pen what tongues will never utter in the stars.

Come to my corner of the world, I beseech you
Come, and disillusionment will never be sought
And if we become enraptured with these nectar thoughts
We can claim the world as our personal trinket.



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