Story of the sky.

Weaving a story,
these clouds cotton.
Seeming to be contradictions
Infinite.
Lapping up all the colours.
Looking bright and blue.
Huge and tender.
Dull golden.
Dignified radiance.
So fiercely silent.
Do they dream all day ?
Little and the big ones.
Nomads.

I look to my left,
orange and yellow.
On my right,
blue and violet.
Just above me,
lot of grey.
Do they tell a story ?
story of my life ?
But there are corners,
where i see black.
Enemy of the clouds?

As i write,
they all split.
They all spread.
They form a great web.
A giant paw.
Smell of the sinister
A plot against me ?

The distant yellow fades..
A sly wind through my hair.
leaves rustling
Birds fly past.
The messengers.
and I know,
its an arrival.

As the time walks by.
Breeze gets heavy.
Darkness strengthens.
Clouds, I see in a different light.
So vast as the mountains.
So grey and threatening.
Settling just above me.
Then I see distant lights.
Flashes of pain ?
Someone screaming ?
Whats the story?
Whats the story?
Oh my dear, its just the rain.