Sometimes I am made of glass, fragile and delicate
But don't try to look inside because I'll never let you see.
My shades are drawn and shut very tight, not even light can peep through.
Other times I am made of paper, withery and thin
Too frail to hold any words, so instead l remain blank and empty,
Wishing I could soar into the wind and get lost in the clouds.
2 comments:
The clouds are so inviting. Makes you wish you had the powers of flight and invisibility.
Wouldn’t it be a treat to just disappear into thoughts and float amongst the clouds, be-bop-hoppin’ from one cloud to the next, with no one tugging at you, no one seeking answers, or constantly trying to figure you out?
You need to enter that in a poetry contest.
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