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Sky Sunday – Clouds and palm trees

It seems like no sky.

It’s like a dense curtain descends from above

and the earth trembles, wrapped in a torn shirt.

There are clouds of blue, transparent, ethereal and light,

there are clouds – a fine maraudian, moonlit,

there are others – shining cheer, sachtiano-soft,

and brocade-silk, in a golden gilded gilding.

There are morning clouds, daytime and sweethearts,

there are clouds gentle and clouds – with anger loaded,

but the world is gone, and the “cloud” sounds flawed

for the colorless wet quilt falling over me.

Part of the poem “REGIONS” –

© 2019-Elenka Smilenova All Rights Reserved

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Written by lacho59

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