Passing Clouds

I look up to the sky,

The blue has returned!

So there’s no need to cry,

Remember what I’ve learned.

For as each passing cloud,

Silently by glide,

Away from the crowds,

It’s here that I’ll hide.

——–

The sun shines low,

Piercing my eye

and the yellow glow,

The pigeons fly high.

It’s now my time,

I know what to do,

I write this rhyme,

I’ll glide on through.

 

________

 

by Debbie Wood-Holland.

 

 

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