It is quiet today,
The train empties out its soul,
Silence is barely pinched
By the funfair.
Gulls form random complications,
A single pattern,
Suspended as an object
And we leave like the first time
Out of a cinema.
Action Against Awe
With one big hand
I grasped the twinkling aeroplanes
From the stars.
They blinked at me,
Scrunching them up like paper balls,
I put them into my smaller hand.
There should never be too many lights in the sky.
It is inappropriate.
Is it all you wanted?
A spattering of snow
Against the cold ground.
Were you happy how you ended?
No-one would know you were there.
Do your black iced wings remember white morning skies?
The changing moon,
The yo-yoing sun.
Now a breathless puppet,
Once a vessel for air,
Reduced to a kick-thing for the inquisitive child.
Outside the playground.