Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2012
He rests upon me like a wandering cloud,
Full of disappearing light.
When the blue skies break through the storms,
He dashes for the night.
And when the ghosts of tempests peer,
He shows again, gray and true.
But there may be something he does not know,
That I am a lonely cloud too.
Written by
Karen Ina
486
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems