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?
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