There are so many types of skies.
Bright blue of the summer morning,
the winds joining it with sighs.
The skies fade to a gray,
as the season draws to winter,
showing that the sky no longer feels gay.
The skies change to a dark blue,
seeming almost like black,
and stars scatter themselves as if on cue.
Lightning flashes, scarring the sky,
the stars dissapearing behind the clouds,
sending fear into those who lie.
Streaks of colors run like streams,
all across the new fresh sky above,
the sky seeming to burst through its seams

