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” – https://otkrovenia.com
© 2019-Elenka Smilenova All Rights Reserved
Do you like the cloud sky?