Sometimes I feel as if the clouds will all fall down
upon all the works that have been done
amongst all people they would lie there
feeling broken, hanging low, yet still so soft
And then when rain would fall it was never noticed
just a stream of water running from the clouds
how awkward would it be to see this
to notice how they've fallen that deep?
How odd is it to know that something as divine
as clouds - shiny soft - could fall and lose their being
The sun would be solitary looking down
Nothing would ever really be the same
I read your poem and found it quite an easy read and a pleasant piece. Keep up the good words. May the ebb and flow of your thoughts and emotions find a good spot to call home.
