gray clouds
by Elouise
gray clouds
hang overhead
ready to burst
at will
my umbrella
small and fragile
the only solace
I might carry
hangs on a doorknob
in my bedroom
unknowns pile on
one after another
an alphabet soup
of indecipherable
medicalese pointing
to things I cannot see
in this dim light
How long oh Lord?
brinkswomanship
does not become me
with so much planning
and packing to do
before that last trip
home
©Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 July 2018
Photo found at AccuWeather.com
What a beautiful poem. Well done!
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Thank you, Herminia! 🙂 I wrote it after I got back from my morning walk….definitely a gray day!
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A nice poem Elouise. But I get the impression that you have planned well in advance.
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Sometimes it seems my best-laid plans just flew out of here. Which is probably not as awful as it seems. Glad you enjoyed the poem. Thanks, John.
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They appear to be swirling overhead, not hanging, to me; they certainly look dramatic and beautiful.
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Well…I had to settle for a google likeness. 💨🌫
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