The Playground

The sun scraped his knee on the playground of heaven
Bleeding freely across a turquoise eggshell of sky
And though he is a big brave boy, a few tears of rain were shed
But he’s sure to return in the morning, warm and bright

The August moon came following, as baby sisters always do
With a glow of admiration on her face
Chasing the tears of the sun across a vault of midnight blue,
Wrapped in a veil of tattered yellow lace

The twinkling stars sang nursery rhymes in silver shades of silk
Their chorus number; grains of sparkling sand
Skimming stones across the sky through puddles made of milk
And winking at the foolishness of man