How far up does the sky go;
how tall must i be to brush the stars?
How high must i jump to hug clouds;
to serenade and blow kisses to mars?
How far out does the earth stretch?
Could my hands reach the Golden Gate Bridge?
Do i share the same sunsets with people miles away;
could i hop scotch across the Rocky Mountain’s Ridge?
How wide does the horizon spread?
Could i hold it in the palm of my hand,
or with a single step meet it face to face
and rest peacefully in it’s far away lands?
How much love fills up the world,
is it overwhelming with fluttering butterflies?
Is every prayed wish is another perfect stitch
in our navy blue, quilted sky?
This large world's roads are winding.
Yet, in my eyes, it's niether extensive nor tall.
With your heart in the palm of my hands
This sweeping world really isn't that large at all.