What Cloud Do You Wish On Or Believe In Poem by Mark Heathcote

If the head of a cloud—looks
Like an angel to us… down below, sometimes.
Oh in these sweet-sticky malaises, sickly molasses
We all drift, drift on by.

Wanting to fall and melt as the snow cloud.
Ah, asking I hope it won’t be too long,
Too long, too long, till us to melt…
Till we fall melts, as the snow.

And join the river shattered in silence
When it’s frozen propensity,
Glides like a nail through a locked door
No one can enter it unless they too have felt the thawed.