Clouds pass above like weightless trains
as you shyly hide among folds of emeralds,
pulling close grey hems that rustle
embroidered with white, baby pink roses
as they shift their symphony to pass through dusk.
Gravel crunches lightly under your heels
as you glide beneath stormy clouds.
Running- faster, through memory’s slippery fog
and the lane strewn with polished glass
grasping the hope of your journey’s end;
and the lonesome figure dressed in white,
Copyright © 2015 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)