Eye strain — peer straight into the essence of their white
Off-white, I decide, as I even prefer.
Oh but how can I gaze their way and wish them differently?
Are they not the most beautiful sight I have privilege to see?
That I do see, is a gift
What I want to do upon the see is to run—fly, rather—
Fling myself selfishly at them
Attaching to their white
Off-white, as they appear... But their form is not for me to land on nor trod upon
They are other; I am an other
The beauty they are in this sky, I think, is not to be taken, held, or mine.
My admiration, even
I think is to observe and admire and leave their white be theirs
Off-white, they show me
So I will respectfully see and subsequently leave be
I will stay in my seat in this plane in this sky
And share this same sky
There is proper reason to be contained in here, in safety
Maybe it is just my safety from them
And they are over there
Maybe it is also their safety from me
If I were able to hold them I would surely try to change them
Into off-white only.
But I am not their owner nor designer
I will stay seeing from my seat
I have come to believe they are more precious than before
Before, when I thought of them as my entitled see
And decided — as though I should decide such a thing
That they are off-white