Clear Sky

Every time I glance up,

The sky’s never just blue.

There has to be a speck

Or just a cloud or two.


And clouds that are so murky,

Not what I thought they might.

All brimming with much greyness,

Not pure cottony white.


Every time I look, it seems,

They have to float up here.

And I am left to wonder,

Will my sky ever be clear?


At times there are no clouds.

With hope I look and see

A lonely bird a-flying,

Its wings unflapping, steady.


Did it really have to come?

How about a moment sole,

Between me and my sky,

And blueness as a whole?


Or if the birds are kind,

They let go of the sky.

And before I can smile,

An airplane whizzes by.


By now, I am so lost,

I simply have no words.

I am always at the mercy,

Of clouds, or planes, or birds.


A crystal clear sky,

With forget-me-not blue

Was all I ever asked

(And I’ve asked for very few)


And still it’s hard to get!

I don’t even know why

It’s so dastardly hard

To get a clear sky.


I guess I should just give up

Or is it worth a try?

Whatever I do, it seems,

There remains a bluer sky…



October 2010


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