Up here, I can see everything the roads we take, the blind spots we miss, even the weather sneaking in uninvited. From up here, I can tell you that frown you wear goes nowhere. And that drum in your chest, snaring like a live wire with no rest, softens into a cloud. Up here, I can see the sun setting. The dark is coming. But so is a new day rising in a golden mist. Way up here, everything is as it should be. It's hard for my voice to reach you I ask the wind to carry it to yo