Clouds Passing

The psychologist asked

How does that make you feel

The clouds are passing

Migrating north east

What could cause this exodus

How does that make you feel

Blankets of whiteness flow

Uniformity of motion glide

Hiding the sun behind the brave

How does that make you feel

Is the root of clouds passing

Because my mother liked clouds

Because my mother watched clouds

Deciphering hidden messages

Of rains’ tearful surprises on

Unsuspecting perambulators

Is that the root of all my angst

How does that make me feel

That the blue provides transportation

The means of clouds speedily passing

Going their merry ways to unknown

How does that make me feel

That refrain annoys the dickens

Clouds move; rain falls

Life must go on; humanity must thrive

Don’t ask me that question

Unconnected to my essence’s core

It doesn’t make me feel anything

Find another angle of relevance

The inner sanctuary of my being

How does that make you feel now,

My eminent psychologist

How does my answer make you feel?

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.