The Cloud Poem by Stephen Harris

I was lost and lonely among a crowd
And not wishing to be, or to talk, or be found.
Without zest for life, I existed not living
Exhausted and tired in spite of my sleeping.

Colour was draining from me and all beauty
I languished in limbo, my actions were laboured,
And trudged with half steps it now seemed toward scaffold
Shuffling in shackles that kept their tight grip hold

Exterior wounds had caused internal bleeding
Emotions now thawed that for lifetimes were frozen
A poacher had threatened my reason for being
Slew young of a beast that was quietly sleeping

An outlaw I knew then appeared before me
With doc martin boots and Mohican stood glaring.
I loved him and feared him for all that I knew him
But seeing bright skies in the distance I left him.