Such a family smell
Cinnamon, cloves, and oatmeal,
Christmas beer brewing.

No hell below us,
just a rolling sunlit lawn.
Above us only sky.

Orbs in mystic flight,
Spectral spheres bring joy or fear.
On what plane am I ?

vengeful Medea
my perfect wanton goddess
never shall I stray

as the world flows by
I wonder what my fate will be,
if I look away

Hard landings result
when harsh realities meet
A flight of fancy