I’d like to lounge around
on a settee of beaches

looking up at
a ceiling of clouds.

Just as I did as a kid,
I’d lie on my back
and stare at the sky,

try to find faces
in the passing shapes
of clouds.

I’d find my family,
my uncles, aunts and cousins.

I’d find my teacher’s face
in a stern looking

I’d see the Queen
and wonder what she was doing
flying over my town.

My dog too, looking down on me
chasing the puffy clouds
as they rolled along.

I’d wonder what it would be like
to wander among clouds,

to change their direction,
move the big black ones away.
Go rain on some other town.

These were the angry ones,
bursting to loosen the rage
inside them.

Others were gentle strollers,
drifting to destinations
I could only dream of.

Some were airships,
dragons, covered wagons
crossing the plains of sky.

Some were lonesome,
single puffs of cloud,
left behind like
lost children.

I’d stare and I’d stare
till my neck began to ache
& the horizon tilted
making me giddy.

Clouds were there for me
when life was drab
filling my imagination
with wisps of wonder.

© Brian Moses

With kind permission of the poet