Jan 2014
Laying under this old forgotten sky.
So forgotten its blank.
No one looks up there anymore.
As if they didn't care for the beauty.
They say stop and smell the roses.
Taste with closed eyes, they say.
Feel the chill run upon your spine.
They say it all, and forget so much.
But how can you forget the sky.
It once wore a baby's blue.
And the cotton ***** were afloat.
Now this white cap has become a normal thing.
And do they care?
Do they?
Not in the slightest.
Child, you ask me how I know?
Why don't you ask the big white dome
So forgotten its blank.
No one looks up there anymore.
As if they didn't care for the beauty.
They say stop and smell the roses.
Taste with closed eyes, they say.
Feel the chill run upon your spine.
They say it all, and forget so much.
But how can you forget the sky.
It once wore a baby's blue.
And the cotton ***** were afloat.
Now this white cap has become a normal thing.
And do they care?
Do they?
Not in the slightest.
Child, you ask me how I know?
Why don't you ask the big white dome
Where I live the sky really is just blank. I tell my friends how strange it is, since where I was born the sky was always changing colors. From blue to orange and red. They tell me it's a normal thing, but it sees kind of sad. Imagine swinging and when you look up the sky is a grayish dull color. Maybe it's all one big cloud, or maybe it's all one big dome.
