The sky,
Ever so greying.
The trees,
Ever more swaying.
The wind,
Continually blowing.
The rain,
Continually pouring.
The clouds,
Little poofy things.
The birds,
Little flapping wings.
The chill,
In the Winter air.
The dream,
In the land of no where.
The Fire,
Making everything burn.
The Storm,
Making tides turn.
Escape,
Such thing does not exist.
Too late,
Such shows on my wrist.
YOU ARE READING
Clouds of Thought
PoesiePoetry is beautiful. Poetry isn't always clear. Poetry can be dark, or light, depending how you feel. Poetry derives from people's innermost thoughts and feelings, formed when one is Lost in the Clouds of Thought. Spiritual ~ #37 Poetry ~ #112
