The sky

The beauty of the sky

Weights a pound of gold

But is worth much more

In our world of metrics

And monetary economics

The sky stands alone

As a piece of art

That is always gone

It comes

It goes

It follows

And then it's gone

The clouds erase the last traces of paint

And takes time to rethink its colors

Oh if only we humans were the kinds to 

Renew our vows and valued letters

Written in our hearts 

Valued ten times more 

Than a play written by Arthur Miller

If only we could turn our red anger

Into soft pinks that reminds you of cotton candy

And our blue sorrow could be painted as beautifully

As a summer nightsky, so deep and sparkling

It makes you want to weep the last traces of pink

The beauty of the sky

Weighs a pound of gold

While our hearts

Weigh so much more

In a world of pain and ugliness

May we look up

And say to ourselves

I stand alone

As a piece of art

That changes

Comes

And goes

Never to be seen again