Cirrus...

i am cirrus on a very sunny day
i rise and i do not have significance to the hills below
i make air pockets so that women
can scream and take their seat belts away and run for a help
that i never available up there
they say i suck
metals upon my body
and cause death
but who can believe this when i am too beautiful to see
like chicken feathers
on a very sunny day
i do not take other clouds with me
i am on my own

on evenings no one knows that i blanket some stars
within me

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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