THE CLOUD COLLECTOR
“Where are you going,” a stranger asked,
“With your fine mesh net and cardboard box?”
I’m going out, collecting the clouds,
Across the field and over the rocks.
“What are you doing?” a student said,
“In your threadbare coat and woollen hood?”
I’m roving wide, collecting the clouds,
Towards the sea and into the woods.
“What are you planning?” the teacher quizzed,
“With your fountain pen and little book?”
I’m running off, collecting the clouds,
Beyond the hills and crossing the brooks.
“Where are you rushing” a worker sighed,
“With that open smile and gleeful shout?”
I’m racing on, collecting the clouds,
Throughout the land and further about.
“Where are you off to?” the master cried,
“With your fancy hopes and far-fetched dreams?”
I’m searching wide, collecting the clouds,
Along the banks and forging the streams.
“Why are you going?” the people asked.
“With your sights set high, you’ll likely fall.”
I’m living life, collecting the clouds,
Collecting, collecting, collecting them all!
© Matt Stradling 2011