Match of Snap Imagination

Peter Pan the morning Pulling blue lint out of ears long accustomed just to hear the surface of the mirror sounds around them Brush the hair with golden teeth by it's roots and underneath Crystal eyes are silver dull in need of shining Make a tent with your hands and the blanket on your bed as a cave, to be dug for certain treasures Maybe marbles from the sea abalone underneath while I dig the earth for pockets full of thunder In the pages of the day specked with rain and mottled grey we are the match of snap imagination Come with me, take my hand leave your shoes right where you stand as we fly to minty skies and constellations.