reference_if i looked closwer

clouds chase and shift after each other,
streaks of mauve and porcelain,
breezing along the icy blue sky.
peaks rose before them,
like a sandcastles yet to be molded

forever young.
dandelions, feathers,
floating in the sky,
look up, sir,
we’re going high

forever young.
treated like children,
expected to be adults,
you’ve lived your life,
now let us live ours

Yes, I see the sun. Nice.
No, I don’t feel its warmth.
Yes, I sense the wind. Cool.
No, I don’t take pleasure in the breeze.
Yes, I can see the view. Pretty.
No, I’m not delighted.

The green meadows and creaking swing,