christmasjones

There you are at the seaside rescuing beached whales. If I was a raincloud I'd float over your oceans, and absorb the water and blue sky. I'd swell gray and black and head into the mountains. Behind the peaks I would vent and strike at the trees and houses with bolts of light. You would peek over the range and see me laying down in the valley. Pressed against the curvature of a pile of clothes, a bottle in my hand, the liquid streaming down into the river. You would climb over the white peaks and your shadow cast itself over my closed eyelids. And I would fade into the trees, dissapate into the misty river, up and around your feet, My Dorothy, my Alice, my Cinderella, twirling with a smile. As gravity would pull me around the bend, and back to the ocean. You would perch upon the hillside. Your dress would burn from one of a thousand fires. Your tears would douse them before flooding back to the misty river. You jump and glide over the mountain range as if a fence. Your dress a tangled mess. We'll meet again at the coast of beached whales.