Pictures Out of Clouds

All alone in a dream
A field of grass
A broken down shack
I lie on my back
Making pictures out of clouds
On the canvas of the sky
With the brush of my mind
And always I see
Images of you
With my soul
In your hands
I refuse to stand
For that might break
The illusion
That I’m happy where I am
The wind plays
Soft silly symphonies
In the auditorium of
My cranium
Yet I hear only
The sad lackadaisical refrain
Of your voice
Caressing my brain
The thought
That one must know joy
to comprehend pain
Does not escape me
I remain
Planted on the ground
arms too short
To reach my heart
A blind man
Attempting art
Take a moment

Just breath

Sometimes it’s the simple things.
Pictures out of clouds.