The cloud, it floated,
On top of the land.
It shifted in the wind,
And made shadows on my hand.
I wondered about the beauty,
If it meant anything to anyone.
It wafted over land and water.
Where it traveled, it didn't matter.
It wanted adventure, so true,
It moved across the sky so blue.
I turned around to see it climb,
And saw it and heaven, sweetly entwine.
In colors of blue and white,
About which my glad,
Pen would write.
Vera Sidhwa's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Cloud by Vera Sidhwa )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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