Transported to her bosom
I marvel at splendor so awesome.
The lilting, languid serenade
Of a parade
Adrift to the sounds
Of a silent, celestial band.
And cumulous platoons
In crystal white array
Stupefy the senses
With parallax of childhood years
When trees glided past
Starry, infantile eyes
From back seats peeping aghast.
Swaddled in her bosom
No bed so cosy
Of cotton wool
With cotton of cloud made.
Set in primal formations
A flashback to foetal times
When the amniotic sea
Suffused the senses
And the paths of the future
Were charted by winged beings,
Celestial ancestors
Of this aluminium alloy
Charting the paths of the present.
Now assailing her bosom
This hoary flame
Reflecting blinding shafts of sunrays
Grants a turbulent passage
To its winged intruder.
“Tighten your seatbelts”
And the clatter
Radiating down the aisle
Returns me to my window
Where I sit imprisoned
Ruing my separation
From the hoary bosom
Of cloud nine.
Mike Ekunno
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cloud-nine-12/
