I lie on the grass next to you,
painting stories with the clouds.
I can hear the smile on your face
when you laugh out loud.
We pass many an hour
with our hands twined
and our lips telling stories
fresh from youthful minds.
But the clouds disappear
as the day fades to dusk,
the stars whisper close by,
"It's time to grow up".
Though the grass starts to tickle
and the rain begins to pour,
I wish we could paint clouds
just a few years more.
