You are a scattered rainbow thrown into orbit.
Sunlight coasts in on the sails of dust
and gently kisses the sides of
geometric caverns of wood,
where books are scattered, displayed with triumph and glittering gold.
Words float off the page
onto circles of paper
and waterspouts loop around the models of ships
They all spin
caught in a whirlpool of lyrics and dirt,
a litter of photos and carnival prizes,
postcards from old friends,
The paint from every soul
that splattered onto mine
is kept in a capsule
or tucked away in a mason jar
You are my universe--
a galaxy of ghosts left untouched for years
but never unseen.
Tsunamis of precariously folded paper stars
that collide and float through outer space.
Every night, I cocoon myself
in a fabric of constellations,
microscopic stitches of white
I’m not a ghost.
I can’t stretch myself through time,
so I created you--
a world where moments bend, shift,
wobble and curve.
Through the clutter of a life,
the mirages of nostalgia dance
under the tangle of fairy lights.