Through the eyes of a child
The morning comes every day so does night. Every day just passes by in the blink of an eye. The sight to admire just changes to the wallpaper on phone. Why so? I don't know? Maybe because in time being I grew up from the innocent soul that was more me and less you. Or perhaps my definition changed along time. The morning now is filled with messages to reply to. Gone were days when it was all about staring at the blue sky, wondering can my palm really measure the vast sky? The birds were companions of mine singing songs that were full of bliss and not deadly as clementine. Oh, how I desire to borrow eyes of the past just to glance at the beauty that is cast on canvas which is filled with every color I could grasp. There is still time to do so. Why just glance at things from the window when the sky is limitless.