Painted skies

i remember once when walking to the bus to go home, their was a boy standing at the end of the stone path stairing up at the big blue cloudy sky, and when i got to him i stoped and joined him, i wanted to see what he was looking at and without moving his body he raised his hand to the sky and said you know sometimes i feel that the sky is painted for it is to beutiful to be real. . . It was at that moment that he put his hand down and we both look at each other for just a second before he walked away and left me their speechles at the end of the stone path looking at him then back to the painted skies.