peaks

up into the clouds we float and go    

soft winged beasts unbowed here in plateau 

toft above whited tip, above wafted shore  

heretofore lost, aloft docile flow.

above shy city passing below

we jaunt, we tumble in hawking show,

banshee bombers in games of kiss and run

contralto-stratus paints our tableau.

and wonder if clouds be so high

as if to separate earth from sky,

and cloud of heart or cloud of mind

can thus keep us from true reply?

if pure of heart, pure of mind,

should one not see eye to eye?

I'm fondest here atop whited peaks,

playing banshee bombers cheek to cheek.

pantomime generals replay our hawking show

I'm happiest here, among the flow.

Reviews

[SoulCrusader (Yas)]

Just love your use of words, and I learnt a new word Banshee!!! Love your style :)