Grey skies paint a dismal picture
Of a land once kissed by the sun,
Though now it may not burn color
Into a land once won.
Though it is a sky some look upon with wistful gazes,
Their dreams shattered as the sky fell down,
Our forefathers looked upon it
With hope for a day without a crown.
When we fall down,
We all look up at a gray abyss,
But if the sky was blue for America then,
What changed it to this?
(Note: Written September 23,2009. This is not about politics)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, this is great. I love the last stanza! ! It's so real and it makes you think why in fact the sky has turned gray when its meant to be blue for America. Perfectly written: D