Brass
copper monkeys
fly at my eyes
in the moonlight,
where I sometimes walk
with my shadow.
And there are times
when I feel
like all of the images
of my world
are just clay figures
fired upon
some insane furnace,
where all of my dreams
are made real.
Sandra Osborne
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brass-copper-monkeys/
