Clouds Poem by royness ( ' ' )

We stand beside a tower of stone. Overhead
the clouds trace vertebrae formations.
The sheep are tufts of cotton, spotted
Across the fields –
A river, weirdly blue, divides the hills.

This city is too much for me. It is necessary
To get above it sometimes. Up here,
We can see the end of it, we stand
Outside of it, here
We can indulge our fantasies.

You complain of the cold.
I reach for a cloud
To wrap around your shoulders.

Watch, as the clouds become shapes
And the shapes become faces,
And those faces begin to take form.

They speak to me from the sky,
Their eyes invite us to join them –
One leans down, unrolls
A great staircase from his palm –
Light as air,
We tread the steps to the heavens.

I can see for miles.
The waves have becomes stallions,
A hundred horses
Gallop towards the shoreline...



I offered to give her the world -

Stop screaming at the clouds, she said.
You are starting to scare me.