When you cup petals between your fingers and hold them to the wind,
why is it that they always seem to disappear before you can reach them?
Why does the Earth make catching little bits of beauty so difficult?
Why couldn't I catch you?

At those certain times when gravity lets one float in the air, above humanity for a scant few moments, what are your thought up there? Do you dream of a weightless place? Do the birds tug you upward just before you tumble?

Where the sky and curving plains and fields meet, can you bridge that gap and meet the sky with open arms again? Do you look up in the sky and wonder what's up there? Do you smile at the little things at your feet?

I'm a troublesome thinker, you know, always wondering where you are, what you're doing, what makes you smile and what makes you frown. Each step pounds against unwilling pavement reverberates with endless listlessness. Will I see you again today?

Answers never do return unless I reach to you, though, so I sit here, eyes unable to truly observe what is in front of me thanks to the blurring amount of thoughts clouding my vision. Soon, the gap between my time and yours will vanish.

Won't you... at least stay a little while longer?