…thus he flew away that day;
to a far off land, a land all his own.
*
The breeze whisked the fabric around his body, dancing heartily.
Clouds nuzzled his face with the upmost delight, ecstatic to have found a new playmate.
Through these clouds there was shown the slightest sliver,
a sliver of radiance,
of the sun.
His chin escalated toward the slight rays,
his eyes squinted in defiance, but his body and soul urged itself forward.
Spots fogged his vision.
The clouds around him were reluctant to move, and they became more dense.
They protested, they urged him to stay.
The breeze only meant to waltz, but it too became an obstacle.
It grew wary of its enthusiasm and drifted away.
He grew wary.
The clouds chortled, and as they did others heard,
and others coasted over.
They piled over his shoulders, his back,
and dragged his feet
down.
And so they began their descent,
down.
And the boy was dragged
down.
Yet, as the clouds were yanking his shoulders, his back,
and latching onto his feet,
he noticed there were no longer any slivers, no rays,
just a circle in the sky;
Sorta yellow, semi orange, perhaps even a bit red.
But behind it, there were dashes
of such a violet, much like a meadow of vibrant lilacs;
of pink, like Santa’s rosy cheeks;
of blue, that crests in the oceans vast expanse;
of colors that have no identifications, that he would have ‘no words’ to describe;
all colors that blended together to form something surreal.
And he was so mystified and awed that he forgot to fight, to fly.
And so he slipped,
and he began to fall.
The clouds dashed to save him, but,
the Earth had already wrapped the boy in an embrace so snug the boy was instantly asleep.

and the boy slept, and slept…