From Nothing

From Nothing

Fell with my parachute,
felt empty and light,
dropped through a cloud,
vapour tingled my skin,
skimmed over a farmhouse,
avoided an oak,
landed near a cornfield,
men lowered pitchforks,
one of them spoke:
“What happened to your aeroplane?”
His question disturbed me.
It was then that I woke.
My pillow seemed friendly,
my blankets were warm,
my bed was stable.
As far as I could tell,
from nothing I fell.
Outside was no sound.
The clock had stiff hands,
could not be rewound.


2 thoughts on “From Nothing”

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