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Reflecting in the computer screen I am staring into now,
I see the blue of sky, painted with cotton swabs that we call clouds;
How do they stay suspended in the air so long?
They seem to trail along so fast; could I fly with the moving shroud?

The zenith we call sky is like a masterpiece of Someone's work,
But who can tell why or how It did all this?
A dinosaur with tiny wings and Superman collide,
From the frosty backs of cumulus, blow kisses to the sky.

A thousand ships with many sails are floating by and by;
They prow their sterns along the ocean of azure blue,
Across the stratosphere they travel, hoping for the moon;
At morning-break leaving the ground with glassy little dews.

I turn my head away from their reflection in my pixel-world,
Gazing out my window at our section of the Universe,
The sun reflects on tofu chunks that soar in my pixelated sky,
Awakening from reverie; thoughts always arrange themselves awry.