Forlorn Clouds

Collecting memories,
not programmes
But inside you’re sad
You ripped out his deepest secrets, and had them for lunch
In the way of the flight path
Communications crossed

That cloud’s not natural
No cloud at all
Made for profit
And a whole lot of trouble
Forlorn and feeling adrift
Watch the past race by
the noise of static
Pleasant in the face of thinking

Copyright John de Gruyther 2014

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