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