Hundreds of wishes, thousands of clovers.
Time becoming so much slower.
Wasted hope, pointless dreams.
Thousands of useless clovers, drifting down the stream.
Wishing you were here right now,
Thousands of clovers drifting down and down.
Further, further,
Until my thousands of clovers are out of sight.
Because, every night...
I'd take a clover, make a wish.
Drop it in the river, watch it swirl like the fish.
Then I'd let it float far away.
I would drop those clovers, day after day.
But it would never be over.
There were thousands of clovers.
YOU ARE READING
Rain Clouds
PoetrySimple poems, each with a story just behind them. ••• This book will be updated whenever I write a new poem worth posting. I draw inspiration either from my own complicated emotions, or sometimes even stories I've created in my mind. I suppose only...
