One who covered everything but herself
None noticed the sky dreaming.
Still she dreamt, always.
In the night, she dreamed of trees and wild flowers and birds who chatter of weather and feather, as if both were theirs. Stars were her subjects for day-dreaming. She could smell the flowers in her dreams and will sing to their heart in return. Those flowers with an autograph of sky - right in their heart- left the earth earlier than others. They were chosen before they were born.
The stars were rather lazy. "They party all night and sleep all day", their mother complained. Sky smiled. She knew.
The stars would not wake up unless the Sky called each of them one-by-one, by name. Of course, she knew everyone by name, like the class teacher of a lower primary class. Star-kids loved crawling inside their blankets at the wake of the Sun. Sky would then pour a little sundrop at each star's face and that was her ultimate weapon to wake the kids up. It did work. Sky always kept that secret away from the stars - that sun was "just" one of them.
When the stars are gone and there isn't much to do, the sky felt her boredom. She was unhappy. She had no place to go around, no sight to watch, nothing to sing. Because she was everywhere and she saw everything. To go somewhere, you have to be localized somewhere else initially. Sky had a bad luck in that case. And she knew.
It was a short-term relief when someone came to her- like the clouds did, often. They would play some games among themselves, laugh wildly as they won, and cry loudly when they lose. Sky used to think that these clouds "inherited" such emotions and responses from the humans. Laugh at gain; cry at lose. Why isn't it the other way around?
Sky never knew.
And none noticed the sky weeping.