My man is a man of the sky,
spending his life mostly on flights.
Strangers of nowhere he passed by
are haunting ghosts of his damn busy life.

I’m thinking if he’s sitting by a window,
gazing his tireless mind and tiring eyes from up above
at a little silver cloud flowing just below.
Would he know that it’s my soul and him I follow?

Lord, please take care of my man_
the man of your bluest sky.
Send him beautiful faces and smiles,
guard his sleep at night under starlight
and secretly stain his lips with my kiss of goodbye.

Love.

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