Thistledown

Growth occurs in the silent hours
when the mind pauses to reflect
on the day's events.

My eyes focus on a white cloud
moving across the firmament.

I watch it change,
as sections are torn from the main mass
by the wind in the upper atmosphere;
I watch it become wisps of gossamer
against the blue sky.

That could is my illusions
ripped apart by the day's events
leaving behind thistledown
to be dispersed
by the reality of my actions.

I, also, posted this in the journal Writing in Snow,  under the folder Awardicon Items, in my writing.com portfolio. Visit My Portfolio @ Writing.Com