Underneath an apple tree, Camden bit his fruit,
As juicy droplets rolled down off his chin.
Transforming puffy clouds, into his own creations,
Slowly moving, changing form, to almost anything.

Heaven must be right here, he thought unto himself,
Where else could I find a life so sweet.
The countryside, a piece of art, the sky afloat in wonder,
Riches grown beneath my humble feet.

Relaxed he drifted off to sleep, upon soft supple grass,
Smiling to himself in private dreams.
Arrested to a higher place, Camden least expected,
To discover heaven wasn’t what it seemed.

Monday, June 20, 2005