This loss,
I’m not sure when it began.
Or where it eventually ends.  
I’m not sure how many times I’ve counted.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve heard myself count.
This lost was meant.

With every exhale they move differently.
They start slow, but then they eventually catch speed.
They grasp the air to dance.
But at what cost allowed them to be free?
Why are my clouds dancing away?
Come back clouds, dance with me.