Softer than the Softest Sigh

June 7, 2008 - Saturday
A classic sky,
no clouds in sight
except the whispy ones
that remind you of something soft.
Stretch your arms up high
you might just reach
that billowing cloud.
Step up
on the tips of your toes
in the grass beneath
your unsandled feet.
Who cares if an hour's passed
while you stretch to that cottony cloud?
You stretch
you smile
your laughter echoes
across the fields
and the sun is warm
the grass is green
and no one is calling you
to come back inside.
Home will be there
the same as when you left
when you return
to it
after you touch the sky.
Touch the cloud,
soft and warm
as the softest sigh.
Touch your toes,
feel the grass
prickly between your toes
breathe in deep.
The scent of summer
inside your nose
controls your brain.
And you stand back up
to touch that cloud
soft as a babys laugh.
Everything stops
time doesn't tick
and you stand up a little taller
you touch that cloud
and it takes your breath away.
The moment is still
and your fingers spread the billowing air.
and the wind
picks up
and rushes through your hair.
And the cloud bursts with the touch of human hand
and the clock strikes one.
And look at what you've done
the impossible
is possible
and the wind pushes hard.
Home sounds good
it is still there
nothing changed
since you left it
but now nothing is the same.
In your memory
flashes of a hand
reaching through the sky
and touching
the only thing
softer
than the softest sigh.
10:40 AM