I watch the clouds surf by,

waves of the wind

carrying them swiftly

across endless blue sky.

They move softly,

in a steady pattern across my view.

I hum to myself.

I hope I do the same.

The sun beats down,

 hot against my skin,

warming my body

that will soon be cold.

Providing a comfort

that will be forgotten

as quickly

as I leave.

I smile at a butterfly

that floats on by,

unaware of me.

Yet,

isn’t that the

beauty of it all?

That nature

doesn’t know,

or perhaps,

it doesn’t care?

Birds sing in the trees,

songs of love,

of wonder,

and of feelings

I never

got the chance to know.

They sing into the day.

Oh,

what a beautiful day!

Leaves rustle above,

tickling in the breeze,

and somewhere far off

a brook babbles.

 I hear it now,

the water meeting rock,

the gentle dance of the current

pulling it along,

always moving,

never stopping.

And today,

the clouds have the wind,

and the sun has my skin,

and my smile has the butterfly,

and the birds have their song,

and the leaves have the breeze,

and the brook has it’s current,

and the day

is filled with

so much love,

so much companionship.

Yet,

here I am

laying,

dying,

all alone.