In a technicolor cotton tunnel of dreams,

I am a changeling & you, an orphan,

 

kicking feet in the sky’s laughing face

I drop you off in front of an apartment,

 

swaddled with wispy threads of starstuff:

celestial, but still tenacious, mapping out

 

the topography of my palettes

below a traitorous sky

 

releasing downpours on your funfair trips,

balmy afternoons while you toil,

out of sight

 

Yet each night, you jump over the hedgerows,

lighting beacons for me to return home

​

​

​

​

​

Willow is a writer from Singapore. After school, find her reading thick history textbooks, aimlessly writing poems, and solving frustrating math problems, in a futile attempt to conquer boredom. Just make sure that her coffee bowl stays full.