the cloudpublished: 2013-06-14
There’s withered blossom that floats in the skies as it fall off trees. There’s a child that plays with leaves. There’s the wind in my hair. Neither here nor there. The sun in the skies. The absence of lies. There’s my bicycle that weaves through the city.
And there’s my son who is on a bike too. There’s his hair that shines brightly in the sun. There’s me calling after him, after them. Again and again.
There’s the left turn they take, while I continue straight. There’s a cloud that follows me home.