Go to the place where the skies collide, they say.
Look up and see
the coloured clouds,
green dancing ribbons in the sky.
As the tale of the people from the past.
You’ll see signs, they say.
You’ll see magic, I say.

of the forests
travelled through the skies,
from mountains to mountains,
left green incandescent marks

They flew,
maybe they were singing, too.
Were they smiling
or weeping looking down?
At us…


Dessy Farhany


3 thoughts on “Tale

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