Naughty Clouds Poem by Akhtar Jawad

An old lady still behaving like a teen aged virgin,
Hard and rough still sometimes like a silky skin,
On the windows like a transparent blue screen,
But who is behind you for such a sexy preen,
An artist who paints the porn of the sexy earth?
Or a treasurer who saves love as a golden wealth,
Or a singer who sings the glory of his virtual image,
Is he an adventurist, an artist or a mighty old sage?
A rose whose color and fragrance you cannot paint,
I know behind you and inside you is a too old saint,
Nobody knows when and how many times he painted,
Is his work of art still incomplete and is still awaited?
I am a bird and you have kept me in a grilled cage,
In my image I see you and your naughtiness o sage!
I can watch the shapes that the clouds acquire,
Who says love is a sin if so why the clouds admire?
What a hidden camera! What we do it captures,
But nature is a little shy the last scene it ignores,
I kiss my beloved and see my image on the sky,
I hug my beloved and see my courage on the sky,
But as soon as I start her lovely undressing,
It starts raining and all the shapes start melting.