In the mornings you weep, like a newly shawn sheep.
Through the day you change shape, like a drunk playful ape.
In the night you’re subdued, like a mole without food.
Then skywards you drift, like a Stannah stair-lift.
It’s these things that I love, my big, cloudy dove! (above).
And it’s these I’ll watch daily, like my DVD of Bill Bailey (gaily).
And I’ll never grow bored, nor will you be ignored (my reward).
And though you’re like condensation, there’ll be no segregation (based on nation)…
…as we wait together for, the inevitable, precipitation (semantic relation!)
© Mark Peacock. 2009.