venus

they’ll move in time.
empty circles in the fields.
crop circles she cried.
crop circles.
venus was only miles away,
clouds covering her sweet cheek.
turning notes, 17, 8:45,
arrowhead blues.
dreams.
pencils swaying softy to the trumpets smooth sound.
venus.............
elle est tres belle.
la lune et la vent danse dans la nuit.
clouds break so i can count my twinkling stars.
the constalations are without numbers.
this music will pass,
my mind will slowly wander as venus retreats into the unknown.
we’ll fade into the field looking at our constalations.
wails full of woe as mother e swallows us whole.
while the man on the moon sings those arrowhead blues.