You may live in a different country,

A country with a queen, regal and reigning.

You may live in a different home,

A home with a door that isn’t yellow, but still cheery.

You may hear different birds chirping outside each day,

Whistling different tunes in different trees.

You may see different weather,

Rain every day instead of snow half the year.

But look out of your window, look up at the sky—

That watercolor canvas of blues and pinks and golds,

Of cloudy days and stormy grays,

The territory of birds and planes and wishes on stars,

Is the same sky that resides outside mine.