Look at that Ceiling

Look at that ceiling
With the swans painted on it
And the colors crossed over
Into new kinds of purple
And new sorts of red
And blue sorts of orange
Here, come lay with me
And see the view
I get from bed

Tickle my toes with your toes
And move your pointing fingers
Past my wandering gazes
And this lazy sort of Sunday
Will become a holiday of sorts

We'll be ceiling-staring cohorts
With all sorts of depth perception
We may even see a reflection
Looking back at us
From the top of the room

There's a winter scene
Involving a frozen lake
And fresh-baked muffins
Stuffed with butter

There's a vase of flowers
With an apple sitting silently
Waiting its turn
For you to examine it

There's a man in a cathedral
And a pair of ballet shoes

There's a new sort of look
To this slightly cracked ceiling
And you're feeling that maybe
You've never looked at it
Like you are right now

But that's okay

There's something pristine about it
It's got a Sistine sort of look to it
That I really enjoy

Just sit here for a day with me
And we can look
And we can look
And we just look at each other

Looking at the ceiling