Sometime she looked for fishes among clouds
sometimes she would see wizards and witches
her mountains, her oceans all reside there
superficial as her own self became.
There were times she saw mother’s loving hands
spread wide, trying to drape her underneath
hazing illusions is what she searched for,
a flickered happiness in the vapour.
Stuck in this unfathomable abyss
she searched all her life a place to fly to,
noise loud enough to break sound of silence,
place far away to never return from.
This sky was her escape from that grim past
clouding on her with the dark solitude
moving apart, making way for sunshine
but whatever it was, it was her sky.
Pooky’s Prompt : Write a poem where you specifically think of the metre of the word. I chose (actually I just tried, don’t know if it really worked) Iambic pentameter.