watching clouds
Today I took a nap. It was marvelous. Aside from the fact that I had my thirteenth (or so) missionary dream, it was great. When I woke up, I didn't want to move. So I didn't. Instead, I laid on my bed, watching the clouds out my window. The sky was so blue and the rustling leaves in the trees were a bright yellow. The contrast was beautiful.
I watched jets go by leaving traces of dust in the sky. The clouds were wispy-like, almost like angels skiing. I wish I had taken a picture from where I lay. It was so peaceful and beautiful - I needed that quiet moment to myself.
But the moment was too quiet, too solitary. I wish I could have shared those clouds and that sky with someone else. I wish they could have seen the leaves and the sky and the clouds as I saw them in peaceful repose.
I wished for those things so badly that it ached. Suddenly the scene wasn't so beautiful to me anymore.
I turned over, and got up. It hurt to look at the sky.
I watched jets go by leaving traces of dust in the sky. The clouds were wispy-like, almost like angels skiing. I wish I had taken a picture from where I lay. It was so peaceful and beautiful - I needed that quiet moment to myself.
But the moment was too quiet, too solitary. I wish I could have shared those clouds and that sky with someone else. I wish they could have seen the leaves and the sky and the clouds as I saw them in peaceful repose.
I wished for those things so badly that it ached. Suddenly the scene wasn't so beautiful to me anymore.
I turned over, and got up. It hurt to look at the sky.
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