It’s so strange how clouds foretell
many things if we allow
the brain to yell the truth out loud.
I thought love was meant be
like light and soft wind-flown
not broken winged and empty
like that unopened part of you
which loomed like a whale
in the sky in slow motion.
But you’ve blown my heart away
like a dandelion clock
freed from the lock of your palm.
It’s hard to stop the yearning
for something which grew like weeds
But at least you set it free
before your hand closed tight
and crushed its many white seeds
Or before whale rain swallowed trust
And the cogs of a fragile clock
became diseased with scarlet rust
and stopped in its ceaseless turning.
© Talia Hardy 2014