The Pink Sky

The Pink SkY

The sky was pink but felt like grey.

A laugh got caught and slipped away.

The tea went cold. I drank it still.

Some days are soft, then turn to stone.

A child ran past. I almost smiled.

The years stood back, and I was wild.

Bare feet, warm grass, a skipping rope,

and in my hand, a thread of hope.

The bus drove past, no one looked in.

A shadow moved, a quiet grin.

The light was gold, the day was done.

I closed my eyes, it’s okay, the sun.

I let it warm the thoughts I kept,

the ones that wake me when I’ve slept.

Not grief, not joy, just what I know —

a silent tune from long ago.

I stayed until the breeze grew thin,

then rose, and let the dark begin.

The stars appeared, a whispered light,

they hummed their song into the night.