Watermelons
The sky is beautiful,
even when it's gray.
When the light shines,
through it just right,
it looks like a black,
and white picture.
One of those old photographs,
no one looks at anymore.
But when they do,
a smile wrinkles their horizons,
as a memory caresses their heart.
You can't quite capture,
the feeling of that day.
But for a moment,
you're close enough to touch it,
to smell it,
to taste it.
It's so beautiful,
you know it'd be sweet.
Crisp,
like a watermelon.
As you wipe the juice,
off with the back of your hand,
the clouds part and,
the sky turns blue.
even when it's gray.
When the light shines,
through it just right,
it looks like a black,
and white picture.
One of those old photographs,
no one looks at anymore.
But when they do,
a smile wrinkles their horizons,
as a memory caresses their heart.
You can't quite capture,
the feeling of that day.
But for a moment,
you're close enough to touch it,
to smell it,
to taste it.
It's so beautiful,
you know it'd be sweet.
Crisp,
like a watermelon.
As you wipe the juice,
off with the back of your hand,
the clouds part and,
the sky turns blue.