It will be a ceiling
reflected to floors
of astonishment,
upon an unending road
without rushing yet within
unstoppable bliss
casually applied
with the most focused concentration
effortlessly grinning, Mona,
with full intent,
as if in a dream
awakening from the most restful slumber
after a full day's work
and a chocolate crumpet with judicious sugary coconut sprinkles,
Served in a priceless porcelain turquoise teacup
on a cloudy day, without a cloud in your eye,
with all your sighs played upon a bluesy jazz harmonica,
and all your grudges ground to cinnamon sprinkles
on sleeping rolls
and baggage thrown
to blankets of thistle pillows,
without thorns,
Puffy with the softest plush of understanding,
the down and the paradox of somehow-unmistakable glee,
Uplifted with a laugh wrapped around
Your innocent, most childlike hopes,
shivering with cloaks
of frosted stars cast
from meadows of blustery dandelions.