Short Poems, Long Poems & Limericks

A Glass Half Full of Stuff to Read

Head in the Clouds

They say we're mostly made of water

Sixty percent to be precise

And in summer I feel like I aught'a

Evaporate into the skies

 

But I wonder which sixty percent

Gets vaporised up to the clouds

And what gets left behind

To stay on solid ground?

 

If I had to guess and I'm guessing blind

My shoes and my clothes

And my bones you would find

And my head would be

In the clouds

Floating along with my mind.

 


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