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It felt like I could touch the clouds.

Updated: Jan 8, 2021

It felt like I could touch the clouds.

The clouds moved as willowy wisps

In the Canadian evening sky.

White lines zipped into

And out of my line of sight.

Yellow strands of grass, weathered by

Thaw, freeze, and wilt,

Littered the landscape.

Mechanical carriages whipped past

Carrying passengers with far too many dreams.

Half-asleep, I could only think,

I can almost touch those clouds.

Five miles outside Calgary,

Away from family,

I saw a baby-shaped cloud,

Possibly a reflection of a life ahead

Or an experience I once had.

A few miles later,

A heart-cloud came into view,

Dissipating as I neared it.

Did that tell of future Love

Or present Care?

On a bus traveling three hours north,

I feared for, wondered when, and hoped how

I would get to touch

Those wispy clouds

That gazed at me so.

I had believed they would not

Melt through my fingers

As they do

The eagle's wings and soul.

Then I realized the veridic,

It was like the fantastic,

Yet somewhat real.

I felt like I was close to touching these clouds,

So I smiled.

Then, I shut my eyes,

Condensed tears streaming down my cheeks,

And dreamt on

Till I reached home.


©2020 by Ayo Okikiolu.


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