Even the Clouds Don't Know the Rules

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Venting my view.

Love is a fleeing moment.

A fugued traveler in search of a vacant motel.

In search of another's shelter.

 

Love is a blinding thing.

A silk fog of confusion.

Blinding even the clouds from knowing the rules.

 

Love is a true thing,

When a fog finally reaches the heavens,

and when a motel, becomes a home.


Submitted: July 12, 2011

© Copyright 2021 Grapejuice. All rights reserved.

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