Skies.

I could live a good 80 years, and I don’t think I could tire of taking pictures of the sky.
When it’s inky black, bright blue, dull grey, or peppy pink.
And I think that’s how people ought to love and be loved.
To find a person who’s your sky, and never tire of them.
To be with a person for 50 years and yet manage to be in awe of the different shades in them.
To love them on their brightest day and their darkest night.