A Walk In Heaven
The swirling fog,
The street lamp… down the end.
The house, the dark, the deep cold defiant dark,
And the old street can.
I can see nothing, nothing but the yellow mustardly decrepit fog.
The fog is making clouds ‘round my feet as I walk.
I walk slowly.
I walk in heaven.
My feet sound like cymbals walking nowhere.
I hear nothing!
Except my heartbeat, beating faster, my breath,
My feet.
What can I feel?
I feel beautiful.
The fog is closing in upon me
But I feel heavenly.
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