6 pm and everything’s turned yellow to pale
The sunbeams sifting through clouds
And the poet can’t help but weave a tale
About clouds which are silent yet unspeakably loud.
Far above these cottony mass dispersed in the sky
Traveled across borders, mountains and seas
Waiting to be beheld like in lover’s eyes
Ever beautiful over the hilltop in the breeze.
Turned into different shapes, a perfect art of nature
Drew something over even our mind can’t think of
Sometimes familiar things and sometimes strange creatures
Yet every time our heart brims with joy and love.
Back in those days when they used to sleep in my art books
All were in blue with paints and crayons
And now with different shades and different looks
With more realism and changes to stay on.
-By Arun Bahadur Gurung