He thought the sky was going to break
Shatter, falling rain
He saw no beauty
Roses weren’t the flowers of love
But burnt paper with knives
He let them cut his finger

He would stand under the moon
And wait
For the little man
Sitting on the crest
To catch him with his fish hook
And sail him far away
He never came

He stood alone
Under the willows
And watched the rain
Standing in front of a dead boys grave
He had known this boy
Close were they since the cocoon of their mother’s belly
Pushed them together

He thought the sky was going to break
Shatter, falling rain
But still he waited for the moon
For the man and his hook
For the stars to fall in his palms
As he tried to forget
And tried to remember
What is beautiful