Storm in a Teacup

Storm in a teacup

That gift you brought me,

A cloud in a bottle, disturbs me.

It stands on the bedroom window sill

Pining for sky. I hum lullabies to it

Feed it rain and blue,

whisper soft

Cumulus words

But it merely becomes overcast

And weeps.

If it’s weather doesn’t improve

I think it might die.

Is it right to imprison clouds?

Should they be free?

Am I being over sensitive?

Lately it has become elegiac

It sings melancholy folk songs

In its cotton wool type voice.

I’ll set it free, shall I?

What if it stays? Hangs gloomily

Around the house, leaving little wet

Shower marks on the axminster,

What if it turns nasty?

Thunder in the lavatory

And storms in the teacups?

I’ll set it free, it’s for the best.

I’ll buy a plastic cloud from the supermarket

One with a free fift or a coupon off for money back

One with a lifetime guarantee.