Though the clouds are heavy with sadness,
I look to them not with madness,
but with joy, irreverent laughter
and thrown wide open arms.
Calling them,
cajoling them,
to gush forth with their tears
so I can dance away ‘neath their offerings,
jive away my encumbering fears.
We won’t be held inside forever,
we won’t be made to rot,
we won’t be isolated, friends and extended family
far from us,
look to the future, misery it is not.
When the clouds break into their grumblings,
their downpour speaking of their expelled sufferings,
I will stay washed all squeaky-clean in morning,
falling, I view joyous watery callings.
It’s all in the perspective, is it not?
I view their drops with mirth,
for I love to dance and I love to fly among
the puddles made of liquified dirt.
Optimism for our future,
lockdown won’t last for life,
embracing the spirit of the watery clouds,
underneath the pitter-patter I feel so alive.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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