Upward and White

Cloudy days
More solemn than sad
Yet smiles over counters
Worth more than the pennies in our hand.
Dust on every page
Dogears litter
Stories through skies and seas.       

Airheads                    
With heads full of tears.       
Shape and shift
To fit the concaves of what we dream
Fear, love.   
We mould the air,
To fit what we shape we find.
But they can never find the right shape

Till we peek a glance.