Painting the Clouds
Memories of a summer day,
lost in the mystery
of time.
I go back to a place I love
that I thought
would always
be mine.
lost in the mystery
of time.
I go back to a place I love
that I thought
would always
be mine.
Those were the days
when summers were long,
and cares
were very few.
I’d love to return
just one more time,
as if those days were new.
Walking with grandma
along the road,
we look up at the sky.
The sun is setting
and painting the clouds,
while it slowly
says goodbye.
The billows of pink
and misty orange
tell a tale
from far away.
She says it means
that tomorrow will be
another beautiful day.
I think of her
each time I see
a glorious setting sun.
Memories of love
will paint the clouds,
when my day
is done.
