Spilled Ink

With a quietness quite unlike my own
I watched the wings dip in and out of gold.
I wondered if you'd find it fascinating.

Moving to touch you with the question,
it surprised me to find I was somewhere else.

Leaning back to the window I noticed
the clouds laying about, inviting me
to step out in the air, stroll a bit,
drift if you will.

Seemed odd I'd never considered
how easy it might be to walk about them.
Stranger still, how peaceful I'd become
next to you; pondering gold colored wings
and walking about clouds.

I wondered if you'd find it fascinating
the way the colors flashed, turning gold into grey,
slicing through with shades pink and purple.

I wondered about the colors you saw
laid against a desert with smoky skies
and somehow drifted to sleep.

I woke to the color of spilled ink,
reaching to touch you with the question
only to remember I was still, somewhere else.