Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain -poetry-

S.K.Y.

Her eyes,
no longer shine,
like precious stones,
No golden tones,
to show her soul.

Her hands,
and fingers are,
cold to the touch,
Her pain is such,
it hurts to reach.

But her heart,
is light as air,
Like birds that fly,
searching the sky,
driven by love.