On a fine day
Blue and white,
The skies are at rest.
Sleepy in their mindsets,
Going to and fro.
But when the skies,
In their anger roar
And thunder.
Mere mortals cower before them,
None bold enough to face them.
Proud and kingly they are,
In the high heavens,
Watching.
Watching us all.
Few can hide from them.
The skies look down on us,
Them being above.
No limits set before them,
No boundaries,
Free, to go where they want.
None have the privilege,
As those,
Who watch us from above.
And look down on us.
The skies!
