Yellow flowers twinkle in the meadow
Sapphire stars falter in our sleep
Crisp breezes tickle the air
Light fog looms over the grass
We lay on the greenery
Feeling the ice on the blades of grass
As it melts, it seeps into our clothes
Moving will keep us warm, yet we lie still
The bare skin on our arms feel the chill air
On the grass, they touch the icy droplets
We move our hands through the green
They are now more damp than our dreams
We sigh gently
Staring toward the gentle and almost dull blue
We breathe in the fog surrounding us
Releasing it once more as a small cloud
With this cloud
Dreams could be made
This breath could have carried words
Words that have never been spoken
With this cloud
Stories could be shared
This breath could have told tales
That haven't been heard since the beginning of time
With this cloud
Wrongs could be made right
This breath could have gently spoke
Spoke of apologies and sorrowful regrets
But with this cloud
We choose to calm our rampant heart
This breath quietly speaks of long dead dreams
It speaks of regrets and fears we will not share
This cloud
Is like many in the sky
Everyone sees the clouds differently
Even if they are physically indifferent
My cloud
Is a bed
One in which the dreamers sleep is filled
Filled with watercolours and cotton
Tie dye sky laces the stars
Violet, lavender, rose and sapphire
Intertwined with one another
Surrounding the thorn-like silhouettes
Of all the stars in our head
But the dreamer mustn't forget
That it is only in their sleep
And when they awake,
They must search again for what it is they seek
We open our eyes
Laying on the frosted blades
And stare up at the sky
To share what our minds have made
Out of the clouds in the sky
But we may never know
What is to come
Of the clouds that lay
Right in front of our face
©aspen_fall
A