All night.

If the clouds were not there, would one look up the sky and think about longing one might have felt once?
Might have felt the tiny trembling in your stomach, listened close to the faint growling of sky-keepers. There can't be anything which can be remembered or loved unless it flies past you everyday.

Maybe your life is just as frail. Just as fragile. Just as irrevocably breakable.

As you walk past the one person, you look into the eyes and you see this glass. Glass for the emotion you long to see. Then with time you learn that look too well, so much so that you develop your own kind of glass.

One day the beauty of the trees will fade. Then slowly and surely, the time will come for other things to fade as well. The sweet memories of the kind holdings will all blur away into a light touch of colour in the vast sky.

It will all end leaving a soft trail.behind and one day that trail.will die as well leaving no evidence of your existence, and no one to for that loss as well. All in its own fair time.