Prena Poetry

[ piece inspired by the great gastby ]

you see, old sport,
she was like a fine afternoon cloud.
the kind of fair, buoyant,
beautiful clouds we see
in the clearest skies of autumn.
the kind of cloud,
we would love to gaze
with utmost charm
and never get tired.

i could lay on the open meadow,
and chatter with the little folks
on the trees about
how beautiful she looked
in the vastness of blue.
but, in the end,
she was only an afternoon could;
greatly pleasing
yet too impermanent
to stay above the same place.

she was so easily blown away
by those changing winds,
and carried far—far away
to another place
in another’s heart.