forever chasing clouds
across crowded horizons,
silver streams of vapour
insubstantial as happiness.
a silent white procession
reflected in mirrors of memory.
cold, these cirrus whisps
of disconnected thought,
and spiralling, easily dispelled
by the pale uncertainty
of a new stranger’s smile,
or a profanity of sharp words
spoken in shallow thoughtfulness.
whispers of frost wrapped secrets
locked in ice chambered time
high in upper atmosphere suffocation,
where warmth is only a thin recollection
and flickering fear, displayed in frames
of wide-eyed flinching grimace grins,
is betrayed by black dilation of pupil
and shallow swallows of pale air.