Our sky was once the shade of blushing cheeks;
that canvas fresh, for cherub passage safe.
How tight we hugged them when the thunder screamed.
They’re banished now, for carbon gasses reign.
0ur faces honor ancient sunset skies,
although our forearms’ empty harbors wilt.
Pollution’s silver mirrored in our eyes;
no matter what, the wealthy prosper still.
0h but something’s remembered in your face.
It makes me certain cherubs seek return.
Their gentle knock against the day is faint.
Perhaps our faces could emit the cure.
Those dimples brandished like a dagger drawn
to cut the sky and let the cherubs out.
by poetnicholasleonard