By: Anyssa Q. E

 

There's a sheath of gold in the yonder;

It boils like a stew.

See, the clouds, flightful as they ponder-

Where are we off to? 

 

They're coals in a sea of a soupy pot,

with the Earth crawling in tall spires-

to meet gold-link clouds wtith cuffs-

and to hopefully conspire. 

 

Beyond the backs of rocky heaps,

come valiant blast of silver-gold beads,

shattering sunlight towards cliffside eaves.

The graceful realm of the sea.

 

Yet, there's a smoldering facet on the yonder;

it burns a line into the sky.

It shimmers with gold and ignites you to ponder,

Where next in the world will I fly?