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by Claire Cadman

The grey wispy clouds sweep over the sky
Like smoke in motion propelled by the wind.
The floating mass of ashen haze, I find
calming to watch as I sit by the window.
I have become totally detached from reality,
as I watch the transition of harmonious
white light to a crystal blue behind the
opaqueness of the mackerel-skies.

I can hear the wind like an invisible tide
rolling up to my window pane.
The fleece disperses into the waves like the
foam into a sea drift.
This is an interlude in a short chapter of
my day where I have had the serendipity
to gather my thoughts and to transform
myself from feeling tensity and stretching
into a peacefulness and tranquillity.
In this serene lyrical portrait I have set
my soul free and it soars now high above
the world in a perennial universe.
In perfect timelessness like a star in the night
it is far, far away but everlasting in for what
could be eternity in a distant galaxy.
Its destiny now is to be a mirror image of
my inner self, therefore, shining brightly,
dazzling, a scintillation of the real me.
This is my pipe-dream -
My sketch of poetic realism

Claire Cadman