The cloud and its daughter


The cloud ask of its

From plants, from the house
that men live

It bends its shoulder and seek
if their heart beat
their temperature heat
and the fire is yet to climb
the mountain hill

It sends thunder, the close relative
to support the search of the petals
found only in young spring

They spoke in distance minutes
length after the local team
has paroled the whole city

They gesture, like old women
worn with tired sleep

It appears, the young love
has found rest in the nearby


Image courtesy:


About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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