If I were a cloud: A poem by Smitha Vishwanath

If I were a cloud,

Cirrus I’d be…

Wisps of white, soft; not loud.

On clear blue skies, wild and free,

The one you’d see, would be me…

If I were a cloud,

Thundering Nimbus I could ne'er be,

Or round Cumulus, drifting in a crowd,

I’d be the one, you’d long to see,

In my bosom, the promise of a fine day, I’d bring with me…

If I were a cloud,

I’d travel far and wide; no boundaries to shun,

Dark despairs of gloom, I’d banish away; happiness avowed,

On a canvas vast, a ‘tuft of hair’ you'd see or a ‘mare’s tail’ on the run,

An artist’s stroke, delicate streaks, silky sheen; I’d be the one.

If I were a cloud,

I’d don the colors of the golden sun,

Not for me, the modest white, the dark grey shroud,

But, hues of yellow, orange, mauve, and crimson,

A palette bright, flaming tones, you’d watch me stun…

If I were a cloud, I’d watch over you all the while,

From my perch up high, up in the sky,

And when you look up and smile,

I’d know, its ‘coz... you'd seen me, pass by.