Amour - Clouds Poem by Andrew Fincham

My Country
‘Tis of thy Skies
She sings:

Fly light skying clouds
Gilt edged -
Strewn wild -

High
Evening’s stillness
Morning’s due
Late
Summer’s
Cast petal hues on
Quiet whites
In endless array

As we tumble by.

In my mind’s eye
I love her -

(‘Tis of her
thighs,
hips,
eyes,
lips,
I sing - all gentle
pulls and folds
caressing arms
upon a sea of cuddles)

I see our vanishing clouds now beautiful.

I feel the song of her beating heart.