Changes

Each pedal, Neat, Smooth, Soft,
Filled with Colour.
The colours, Radiating, Sparkling,
They never seemed to stop.
Clouds, Soft, White, Fluffy like cotton balls,
Each blade, So sharp, So smooth, So green,
And the air, So hot, So Humid, Nice,
The wind, Breezes,
Toys with the blades,
Swirls with the clouds,
Dances with the pedals,
They pick up, Merge.
As one, Tears washed away the leftovers,
Cleaned them, Gave hope,
Happiness, A sense of belong.
Everything so perfect,
The clouds swirling together, Merging...
Changing, A new, Lovely strange thing,
Prances, Across the clouds, On the blades,
Rising the pedals, The air, Heat no more,
Humid and poor, Bitter, Shear, Tidal force wind blows,
Across the skies, Across the blades,
Across my face, Which lost its glow.