Straight and soft and thin and white,
The sugar frosting by your head at night.
Billowing sails which tumble in creases,
Falling upon themselves, arms meeting.
Feathered backs breaking; you see limp spines
Double up with amusement, into crisp white lines.
And the flat horizon over which you peer
Is but a guise; a sly veneer
To cover up those soft cloud dreams
Which bend and tremble at the seams.
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