There's a bruised cloud sitting above me.

aren't its glowing edges lovely?

Even though the sun smiles,

no raindrops for miles,

This cloud's staring, not blinking, not budging.



But I'm not lost, I'm not even alone

standing outside- in the cold- of my home

where not a soul stirs

save my echoing words,

'kept company by the sound of tires on the road.



See, I wanted the world to stop moving

till it parked, dropped me off in a state of not doing.

Coming home's gotten hard,

I've outgrown this backyard,

So my feet weep and itch to keep cruising.