Poem

Poems are movies you can’t watch.

You can see everything so vivid,

Yet it’s like a dream world.

And everyone has their own world.

My sky is a warm cotton blue blanket.

My moon is a cheese eaten by mice.

My mud is melted chocolate in a brown bowl.

My birds are paper planes gliding up, and down.

Your sky could be a mixture of cotton candy and blue fizzy.

Your moon could be a banana punctured by needles.

Your mud could be chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce.

And your birds could be knives slicing through hard winds.