She searches the sky most days.
Never says skies;
to her that one vastness
holds so much.
Sometimes she forgets
she cannot contemplate what exists above.
There are days she wants to pull down the clouds
to build a maze.
Days she wants to swallow the small ones;
their cold candyfloss hydration.
Days she wants to lie down on the side of a hill
with someone she loves
naming every shape.
Days she thinks she would be happy
just watching everything glide by
in the colour of swans.