Greg Costello (05/04/1970 / Dublin, Rep. of Ireland)
A conveyor belt of clouds passed overhead,
One thought he recognized the scene below,
'It's possible we're lost, ' he softly said
'We floated by this place some time ago.'
'I feel this sudden urge to spill some rain,
But can't be sure this is the spot we'd planned, '
His fellow clouds did not a dropp retain,
'Of course' he mouthed, 'it's clearly Ireland.'
Comments about this poem (Cloudy Judgement by Greg Costello )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley