Sky streaked with straight lines of pink and blue,
some fuzzy spots on top of the lines;
those must be clouds.
And in middle of all that beauty are
two white clouds next to each other.
I wonder if they are dripping rain,
or just holding it in
to be let down at the right time.

Some sadness in middle of all that beauty;
that is the reality of our times now.
The irony of those two coexisting
every day.
You know that when you see a picture of
a father walking with his daughter;
she with the innocence of a young child,
he with a missing limb and crutches,
having just returned from Gaza.