He sits in silence,
breathing in the
lavender night sky.
When he closes his eyes,
he sees periwinkle galaxies
so alluring that he weeps;
he desires to soar through the stars,
wistfully dancing through their dust,
allowing the gentle soprano of the vacuumed silence to take lead.
He’d leap through asteroid belts,
leaving footprints in the heavens,
moving through the suspended rocks as if he’s caught in a riptide.
What a magnificent time he would have.
His eyes snap open;
back to reality, he has no choice
but to gaze up at the sky
and ponder what-ifs and wilted dreams.
With both feet on the ground.
By Vincent Midolo
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