-- This is a prose poem I'm working on... It's kinda corny. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks. --
In my dreams I see you standing. You hold yourself up straight and tall like your father said you should. Your head is level with the horizon. Your eyelashes look almost heavy, and your eyelids are two nervous butterflies that can't quite stay still.
Your presence is the only one for miles. The sky above you is black and blue, purple and gray, bruised by the simple fact of you, by the plain truth of you standing up straight. You are irrefutable. Doubtless.
The wind starts to pick up, turning dust around your feet.
The light that breaks through the clouds is your own.