Mountain Poetry Oldies

Clouds Of Angels

Clouds of Angels spread their wings and fly,
Across a sky of blue, that never seems to end,
And there a giant condor points the way,
To other shapes, as I play a game of let’s pretend

Passing time, while driving West to find me,
On a journey to a place I’ve never seen.
Passing time, while time is lost behind me,
As I wander through the me I’ve never been.

There’s a poet in my soul, who is crying for control,
Of everything I am, and who I’ll be,
And there will come a day, when I will find some way,
To set that poet free, so I can free me.

(While driving In Saskatchewan)

Poetry From The Sky:

Clouds Of Angels