The sky hasn’t changed.
It’s only now, sitting in the family car,
That I realise I am moving under the surface of something constant.
As I press my forehead to the window and glance upwards everything moves at the pace it used to,
And I feel the things I used to
The ache in my heart that wants to
Create something to replicate the slow steady pace of a transitioning sky.
Day to night and all that’s in between,
And the stunning insignificance of me.