Just Another Cliché Poem by Mark Heathcote

Outside my window this Sunday
it has been a beautiful spring day,
marshmallow snowdrops bewitched
have fallen drifted every way,
on shrubs and trees, they're
handpicked flowers for a bridal bouquet.
But by mid-noonday, she and they
had played out their quiet ballet
and climbed back away above
the clouds along a spiral stairway.
From whence they came, hooray,
hurrah, hurray, they're gone again.
Was it all just another day, just another cliché?