was told I was a daydreamer

 
When gummed,
I imagine,
whole Moons
become lemondrops,
teeth on which they shatter
stalactites in caves
filled with burnt out,
gloomy stars.
And beside that,
when dreams
take upon their dreaming,
pivot daintily
on an edge
of reality
and tabletop
black magic
I cast doubt
as bolts of energy
streaming from source,
crumpling the symphony
of delicate wonder,
orchestra with it,
chandeliers fallen
in the quiver,
ballrooms tumbled
into a magma shaped hole
where one runs
from rubble
to a rumbling ocean,
finds calm,
decrees a dalliance
in dulcet tones
known only
to the bumbling free
as a Grandfather's
planet-grounding hand
slicing an apple,
passing a piece.
I stare out to sea,
picture lovers lost
as that orphan bike -
that never peddled
fast enough bike,
the King of planets,
the rhino, the bind
and all wondrous scapes
divulged in brief moments,
painted through the eye
of a spindle looking child
who lives in a mirror,
dissolves after coffee.