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,
But it merely becomes overcast
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.