Above the soft warm cloud below
Sometimes the tenderness is missed
Sometimes the tenderness is missed
Like the mystique held by mists.
We had our updrafts and downbursts.
What potential novels we'd write
When the parallel clouds meet?
Some songs are never written.
A hurricane we'd never make.
Some clouds are never meant
To spin into a dust tornado.
Did you know the alphabets
Never arranged U and I together?
Law of grammatica kept us apart.
I'd blame God on those days.
But in my solemnest moments
I'd realize we'd need to remove
J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T
We'd not able to spell "happy"
If we were ever together.
Some clouds are never destined
To form into a thunderstorm.
A volatile chemical reaction
Plenty of collisions and lesions
But I an enzyme, simple catalyst
End of every pathways still
Still separate, disparate story.
Cross me out from beginning
And end, while you react away.
Work up away into nothingness.
Leave me exhaust and same
Before the reaction even begun.
Some clouds are never meant
To connect into a hurricane.
-Wren
No comments:
Post a Comment