The Time That I Lost Three Days of My Life

I lie on a small, sandy hill.
Looking skyward, I raise my hands
To the leaves falling like rain
From the oak tree. I fly
Up into the vast blue
And leave this planet.

I reach a new, strange, orange planet.
It is dotted with wooden hills,
Homes of the beautiful blue
Creatures that reach out their hands
To me. I crouch down, jump and fly
To a new destination, to the rain.

I drift through a meteor rain
Shower. And discover a new planet
Of floating yellow orbs that fly
Amid this realm's great hills.
I make a V with my hands
To navigate a new way into the blue.

This shimmering celestial body of blue
Exists under endless sweet rain.
I touch and swift with my hands
The lightness of the planet.
My footprints leave two small hills,
Not indentations, as I once again fly.

Through the darkness I fly
Searching for that elusive blue.
I imagine that stardust makes small hills
On the horizon. A strong rain
Propels me to the next planet.
It is not the one. I cover my face with my hands.

I stare down at my vivid hands,
Their creases my map. I can fly
Through these storms, find my planet.
I must keep searching for the blue.
I must not get distracted by the whispering rain.
I press my eyes shut and imagine my hill.

I open my eyes to cloud-speckled blue.
But these clouds do not carry rain.
I am just an ant, on my ant hill.