It was raining purple trees
There would be no kiss today
Or paper sentimentals
Dedicated to the edges of the heart
As the spider dared
To peak out of its hole
But the would-be crushing blow
Was not as fast as the many-eyed Medusa
That should have now
Been on the valley floor
This spy and keeper of secrets
Ever watching
Which probably knew as well of the floods
Across young innocence
Still heard in the distant trains and empty seashells
Buried in albums now left to dust
But the rain will soon end
And the spider-web over heaven will still be there
With its god that is not able to tell itself apart from what it sees
As it waits for tomorrow’s dispute
Made of ancient repetitions
AsIDream 