Sky Silk

It was warm the night
The sky silk descended
To lie upon the grass contrite
And left the moon empty scented

Later, the puffs would cry
And early that next morning,
The wind would shudder and sigh,
The salty dew left in mourning

The tart taste of tragedy
Stuck to the backs of throats
An unmoving and firm gravity
Weighed down on empty coats

It was warm the night

The sky silk descended

A child screamed in delight

A fun festival intended

Ten thousand of the faceless

In a moment ended in a flash

Would suddenly coalesce

And, in collection, swallow ash

Later, the puffs would cry

Great stinging droplets

That never did learn to fly

So unlike any of the rockets

It was warm the night

The sky silk descended.



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