Standing astride the roof of the world,

I stare at the vacant blue bowl of the sky.

Marred by spare clouds like pillow stuffing.

And as they dance across the somber sky,

I wonder if you see what I see.

Half a world away,

What do you see in the sky?

Does the sun hang like a bronze coin?

Distant and warm?

Or is it a god's first?

Pressing down mercilessly?

And when the sun is gone,

What can your eyes see?

Do the stars hang clearly in the firmament there?

As they do not here?

How I wish I could see through your eyes,

And you through mine.

That we may share each other's skys,

Together despite the miles.