Silver-lined Criminals

The crossbow was still
in flight, aiming at sawdust
and flittering candles. Naked
flames exposed in daylight.

Do we look above the pirate
scars? The next ship, beyond
our reach. Our feet will
fall.

Do we fly with the flock of
birds, or do we sip our cold
cup of coffee? Muddled
mocha and foul taste.

I see the better day, the
pioneering sky, and I see
that we are the silver-lined
criminals.

 

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