A bored teacher and a even more bored climate
decided to hold a meeting up in my head
as the pencil decided to take notes
my eyes grew bright
and sleep planned an escape route
out from the traffic of my brain
and into the heads of fellow classmates.
The clouds have a family meeting
with loud claps
and angry exchanges;
The white draining
the dirt seeping
as mother and father make love,
daughters and sons fight,
and the generation before bickers.
The earth stares helplessly
as the families shout and parade
beyond the reach;
far above, far away.
That little boy cloud has his hair plaited
That little girl cloud tripped and fainted
That little man cloud wants to change its gapes
That little cloud likes other clouds of the same shape
They travel the sky hand in hand
and rotate the world like a merry go around.
They hide light and darkness.
Sunlight and moonlight
craving their permission
to get a sight of their lovechild.
The clouds guard the sky
but soon they will fall
and this time they will be formed no more.