Every sky I see, pulls my heart.
It's a perfect poem, with all of it's stray marks.
It's all these little details, make me ache,
as in a dream I never want to wake.
Causes me to wish I could lay down,
watch the clouds as they dance in tune with sound.
Every movement causes such a beautiful mess;
nothing I'd ever add could make it more or less.
Sometimes I test the souls that are nearby,
Look, a small invitation to see the sky.
Usually confusion says, Okay?
I don't see anything extraordinary today.
No birds, no planes, no faraway storms,
the only thing I see, is clouds for sure.
I never say words, because I know it's true,
I could never make them Love it like I do.