There is a small glen in the clouds
There is a small glen in the clouds
where cumulus receive nice forms,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
Up there the Sun his golden crowns,
faithful rises to brighten morns,
there is a small glen in the clouds.
Strong currents sing solitude's sounds,
on glen souls bare of painful thorns,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
The winds affray in gray surrounds;
air streams repeat some lyric calls,
there is a small glen in the clouds.
Beholden soul on glen, astounds,
a dream is remnant while it mourns,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
Souls rise on glen to feast in bounds,
air callithumps atop the knolls,
there is a small glen in the clouds;
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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