Step into my world, away from all the follies,
invented by my fellow men. Behind
the wall of rain, where the horizon stops
and doubles in reflection. Come with me.
Over the edge of the planet, it used to be flat.
The shape and color of an apple
is less important
that its taste.
Come with me. We’ll fly away,
hand in hand, through the wall of the rain,
into the land of many moons floating
beneath the canopy of uncharted constellations.
© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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