
Strolling along clouds filled with sky,
Puffy white with lemon drops
Oh—my!—
I came about a grassy knoll,
Sat at a terrapin station—
Pulled out a bowl—
The sky rises to the clouds,
Dark star of death musing around—
Digging that Grateful Dead sound,
A hell of a starburst,
Gracias, Jerry!—
I sit and eat my ice cream
With chocolate and cherries!
Ah!—heaven bound.
POET’S NOTE:
Part of The Art of Being collection.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.




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