A Letter to The Sky

 

To my Dearest, Sky,

I met you on a winter afternoon. You were dusting snow on the ground outside and your face was hidden with grey clouds. I didn’t know anything about you, and I didn’t know you could be different. Until I grew into a young girl, I never saw your true form. Let me rephrase that, I never appreciated your true form; your blue color and the warmth of the sunbeams you cast down on me.  I fell in love with the wind you blew through my hair and that ruffled the green leaves on the trees that surrounded my house. It calmed me, and I knew that you wanted to make me smile. You always held up my kites for me, and I watched birds soar in your hold, like one of the planes that you carried sometimes.

I grew so fond of the stars that freckled across your face and twinkled down at me, leaving me awestruck as I stared up from the blanket my mother laid out near a warm fire. One particular star always seemed to smile at me, and I knew you had made it mine.

White clouds always were in your grasp, and they playfully covered your face like a small game of “peekaboo”. Sometimes, you even covered yourself completely when you were shy, and I missed you. But I knew you were coming back. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and you never failed to make me smile. That was so, unless, you were upset…

 

Your face turned dark, and the wind that used to gently blow across my cheeks and nose, now hit and pushed me angrily, wanting me to go far away. You always cried when you were mad, and I knew I should’ve tried to calm you each time, but you would scream in your loud, booming voice. You knew I didn’t like to be yelled at, but you did anyway. I would run inside, but your wind would bang against my walls and your voice was still shouting at me. Your angry eyes flashed in through my curtains.

After I gained enough courage to peek outside, hoping to see your stars and see that you were happy again, you kept them hidden. I never could sleep well on those nights, worried to death about you. But even after it was all over, I would wake up and go outside to see all the damage you caused. Trees had fallen, the ground was washed out, birds didn’t sing and planes didn’t soar. How could you do all of this after we loved and admired you so much?

I cannot keep giving you all of my love, only for it to thrown away. I’m sure you will someone else to admire you.

 

Goodbye,

Rachel

This poem is about: 
Me

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