Poetry

The Sky

Hi

Its been a while since I have posted anything here…so here we go.

This one is from maybe November 2015

THE SKY

It hung above us, fixed and weightless

Nebulous, constantly morphing

Transforming, revealing it self

As a mistake, spilt milk finger painted by an imaginative child

Smooth strokes

That migrated becoming more distinct

Shapes made by the wind

In the middle was a warm still glow

Raw egg yolk and white on a plate of blue sky

And it was the first to go

Eaten away to make room for grey as the sun was veiled

The birds defiant

Like dark misshaped arrows choosing their own paths..

“Do you ever wish you could fly?” I asked

You spoke of your childhood dream long lost

Drowned by logic, now a faint memory

You spoke of dimensions, you long to have your z axis

Height and depth that’s were only present in imagination

I smile, didn’t think of it that way

We only get to interact with the surface

We only get to stare at the sky

Standard