As the plane ascends into the clouds I once believed were cotton candy,
I am hit with a wave of emotion too grand to fit into a single song.
But it's all I have, besides my words.
So I write poems from the sky,
Floating through the clouds,
Playing the same song over and over
As tears drip down my screen.
YOU ARE READING
A Tired Mother named God.
PoetryA collection of poems for God, the universe and whoever else is listening.
