CLOUDS VISITING

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CLOUDS VISITING

Today the clouds visited earth,
in sweeping and shifting gauze
they swayed teasingly back and forth;
I breathed its droplets as I walked.

Skin felt rosy and refreshed
I am not sure about the lungs,
earth was happy and renewed
Even roses came out and shone.

Sun rays gently warmed the air,
the gauze thinned here and there,
mystically revealed and hid
parts of trees, branches, gables and spires.

What a delightful morning it was,
so much intrigue this dance exposed;

Made me think of us, our lives,
often harried with worries, wanting,
seeing fears ahead that might never come;

Rarely letting each day be revealed,
each wonder and delight,
each difficulty to combat at the time.

But for now I am here,
seeing the mystic, the clarity.

© miriam ivarson

 

WHERE IS IT NOW

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I wrote the poem / lyric below a couple
of weeks ago and smiled at its seeming 
childishness. Snippets of strong memories
we all have but what is this. A song? A poem?

Listening to people in America talk with such
glow about Thanksgiving and family togetherness
I revisited this poem and realised.
It is just that, praise and gratitude to a home 
and people who made it so warm and safe.

So, with this I wish you across the Atlantic a
Happy Thanksgiving and all of us gratitude to 
love given in any form.

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WHERE IS IT NOW

I once had a dream
such a beautiful dream,
But the dream flew elsewhere;

I now wonder, where is it now,
is the ether keeping it away?

I once had a doll from Aberdeen,
I loved her so dearly
She even could say ‘mama’,

I often wonder, where is she now,
did the loft fairy take her away?

I once had Red skiing boots,
they were so very new,
Smelled sweet and shone,

I wonder, where are they now,
are they still skiing, all red?

I once had a hut high among the rocks,
we built it ourselves,
It was a most wonderful place.

I just wonder, is it still there,
home for other young to dream?

All the treasures I once had
that gave me so much joy,
they still make me warm;

I only wonder, as they live in my heart
are they happy,
Knowing they are loved?

© miriam ivarson

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