CLOUDS

By  Peter Woodgate

 

Like human souls

They drift across the sea of life,

Taking the shapes of happiness and love,

At other times of sadness and of strife.

Whilst wearing white they dance

and catch the sun,

at other times they mimic all our fears,

they turn from white to grey, then black

and like us souls, we find it ends in tears.

I think, perhaps, these clouds are souls

Of Those who left the earth

To dwell in higher places,

Looking down on us and knowing all

Our weaknesses, our faults, also our faces.

Should that be so, I hope that when I go,

I will enjoy the sights and sounds

Whilst keeping tabs on those

Who, I suppose,

Have wronged me on this Earth,

Then I shall rain, with force, upon them,

With great pleasure and with mirth.

 

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate