Looking Through Glass: A Poem

My sky is white not far above, my horizons close and beige,
My sun is warm, and cracked, and dull, but comfortable with age.
My dreams are filled with maple love and cakes fried in the pan,
And I wake to fill my belly with as many as I can.

I watch as days and nights go by in a filtered orange hue
And hold my measured silence as the wisest dragons do;
I think on everything I see as I try to understand
The people I’ve grown fond of living in my little land.

I’ve come to know my many friends o’er the last three years,
Seen them laugh or throw a tantrum or crumble into tears.
As much as I love all my friends, they’re everything I feared.
You all do the strangest things. Damn, you folk are weird.

Unonomatopoeically,

Mikey