Saying Goodbye

The clouds, flying over the horizon,
spoke to me in gentle whispers.
Looking up, I am overwhelmed
with fear and warmth and grief.
The wind, moving the trees,
is like the shushing of a mother
to her frightened child.
The wind, moving through the trees,
is like the moaning of a mother
to her frightened child.
The first time we met, your eyes
(bluer than the sky)
captivated me.
Why do the stars hide?
What do your eyes say?
The clouds, a kindred spirit,
wish to be free.
Here in the winter of my mind,
you fill the spaces with your sound.