Exhaustive Concordance of Days

Chalk eaten paper, unrolled on my floor Stiff shoe paperweights holding it still I'm on my belly with green fingertips painting the backdrop for the next scene in life. There will be oceans, for who doesn't love oceans, and there will be strings holding sun kites and breath You will be there wearing velvet and honor shooing the birds as they land on my shoulders Then there's the moon which I've painted in fuchsia It's a moon which decided to grow it's own heat None of this waiting for sunshine and earth shift This is the moon at the end of act three. Then there is pain (for pain's always there) but I've put it in bubbles way over our heads You're hiding pins in the sleeves of your coat but I've painted them sewed into fabric and red Wishes are tangible here in my mind so I've sketched them in scrollwork on the edge of the page These are the moments we yearn to dip into in dreams and in all waking solace I could go on like a list of desires but you really should just make your way to my house Please do forgive my disheveled appearance and kiss me on lips stained of verdant This tapestry life is an eater of time I'm full of paint scrapings and boldness (and rhyme) I've set down indelible what I want to be an exhaustive concordance of days.