as well as the sun's
then 'tis hard to belong at all.
The clouds are just so big and tall, my
eyes along with all the rest
hover about, abnormally small.
I once had a dream, a wonderful dream
about the moon, with its face and light.
It greeted me, on the moon, greeted me
like I was he, the man on the moon.
What a delight. It knew all there was
to know and so I asked, politely:
"Will you tell me how to get to California?"
But dreams are dreams and now it seems
the weather forecast won't let me see
what the moon promised me
in an after-all disappointing dream.
Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jhnhtt/376420837/
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