I watch them frolic in the meadows of the welcoming sky
They pass each other with smiles and mists of innocence.
The clouds pass
I watch them walk pass each other,
Their eye contact was cinematic through their showers of dawn
The clouds pass
I watch them run to the night,
They hide from the eyes to dance in the rain they pour,
Each drop sweeter as the dawn approaches.
The clouds pass
I watch them run from the dawn,
they huddle under the moon in their melancholy cries.
They beg for gravities reigns to make them pure as they once were.
The clouds pass
I watch them sprint to each other
They thunderously beat each other just to hear the own rhythm of their own hearts.
The clouds pass
I watch as the sparks of their pure souls vanish be for they can comprehend the heat.
They find the heat addicting and hit their friends until they can’t tell who is who.
The clouds pass
I watch as the storm of their greed for independence doesn’t end,
Until only an echo of their past remains.
The clouds pass
I watch them do so through the melody they always have,
as I remain the calm lake they claw from.
The clouds pass
I watch them and crave the stability of their chaos.
I crave their shameless noise.
I crave to pass and be observed by peace.
Check out this other poem by Sloan,
