Sometimes my face does not express
my thoughts or what I want to say
and you look at me askingly,
wondering whether I’m alright or not,
looking so scared as I do: a stranger,
while I just ponder about clouds
and how they soften hard blue skies.
I might have silly muscles in my cheeks,
or eyes not telling what’s inside me,
or clouds may bring fear
in the unconsciousness of the mind.
I shall try to smile more often.
See how clouds are gone now.
I am no stranger anymore. Come, just love me.