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The Piper

In the middle of a yellow, Blue and orange cloud
I sat and looked at the world's greenness.
As it carried me,
Crossing from a time to a time
And from an age to another.
The cloud stopped.
A beautiful sound of the pipe was heard
Like a spring in the middle of summer.
The cloud stopped.
I had a look down
So that I might see the piper.
I imagined he was my father.
But he was not
I imagined he was my son.
He was not.
Maybe it was I.
I was not.
He was nobody at all.
It was a beautiful, astonishing sound
Filling everything with pleasure and gold.
The cloud got tired.
I looked and found my father
Lying on a cloud ahead of me,
And my son riding a cloud following me.
The cloud got tired from stopping.
So, it moved quietly to the end.
But our clouds,
Alas,
Started to lose their delightful colours,
And became darker and darker.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013


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