The clouds come and go
I am waiting to see the sunlight.
Touch and it will disappear, there’s no sense
against my skin but a feeling underneath—shivers
from the cold that leaves me in vain. Drifting away
at its own pace—taking its time because there’s no rush
in life, only those made up by the overthinkers:
transform and morph, the new contours
of shapes left up to our imagination. Summer days
lead to heavier storms—those that come will go,
and I will see the sunlight once more
before the clouds return again.
©2022 A.X. Bates