Intergalactic

Do you ever want to crawl out your window as you pour honey down your throat, relishing in its sweetness flowing downwards?

Do you ever want to describe the process of healing as if it’s like running away from the headiness of the aforementioned honey, its saccharine taste lingering on your breath as long as it can last?

Do you ever think of what would happen if the clouds and lakes interchanged positions, if we looked up we’d see lakes in the sky covering the sun in day yet moon at night, and if we could wade through clouds instead of water?

Did you ever think want to think of flowers as giant trees and trees as dainty flowers? If the grass grew feathers and began to float, the greenness against the auburn evenings, with the russet-coloured setting sun?

Is this what she meant when she said she saw the galaxy in my eyes? Does looking at me really make you truly happy?

Is this how Monet would see nature?