Words just about filter through

The shouts, screams and laughter

Behind me. I seek solace

In the beaming blue sky,

Partly covered by clouds,

Which pours through the stained glass pane –

A familiar sight

At this autumnal hour

When families go home

Together, and lovers watch

The world just pass them by.

 

My eyes return to the sky,

Choose a cloud, and wonder

If you’re somewhere underneath –

Elbow perched on a ledge

Palm pressed up against your cheek

Gazing wistfully

As the wheels move further West.

Don’t ponder too long, though,

Because the next stop is ours.

One day, we’ll have our cloud

And we’ll have our heads in it

And we’ll never get off.