The last waltz

When the last waltz has stopped

long before the lights have dimmed

no cash, down-payment or card

can reclaim its extraordinary magic.

And yet the cry goes out; dance, dance again,

until the clouds take to the hills

hoping there to find deaf ears

and rest happily in ignorance.

Peace reigns for a time and half a time

but then a thought begins to grow

in the, oh, so white and fluffy

to turn them dark and sombre.

How long it takes for clouds to think

remains for me a mystery

but finally thought turns into action

and they return again.

No one can hear their silent creep

because noise would make of their eavesdrop

a complete and utter waste of time

for those with work to do.

And then they listen; yes, they hear

the same old cry as once before

and that’s the reason why we have

quick and sudden cloudbursts.

Clouds, you see, must blanket cries

with all at their disposal 

to not make of their return

an unwise decision.

And how like humans to take to the hills

and bury their heads in the clouds!