IF ONLY CLOUDS COULD SPEAK

A poem that conveys a lot that can’t be said.

I once rode a horse that kept changing it’s colours.
Brown, black and at times white.
I fled the stables past the field.
Past the wooden fence keeping it caged.
I rode faster than the horse could take it
but it kept running still.
I came to a path where a crossroad existed.
I rummaged through my mind for the best path.
But who would know? Would you have?
I played ping pong and eventually went for the left.
Did I want to fall astray or was it the best choice?
I came across mountains amidst dark clouds.
Heavy clouds. Dense clouds. Grey clouds.
I got drenched in the pours but I kept riding still.
Not slowing down even for a second.
Did I get out or was I stuck?
IF ONLY CLOUDS COULD SPEAK.

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