Poetry Train: The clouds are Bruises

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The clouds are bruises
outside my window
full of purple tears.

I wish I was lying on the beach
in Hawaii again, looking up at
the animal clouds, and
digging my feet into
the cool underlayer of sand
and watching Nay
try to surf.

He is a ballet dancer on skis
but here in the ocean he is
an elephant trying to waltz
flipping and flopping and flubbing up.
I can hear the waves chuckling
As they toss him once more.

But he is a golden boy and never
gives up.
I smile with pride
and know he will succeed
because the future is mapped
out in the friendly clouds.

I wish I was back there
feeling the warm sun
warm my son.

This is not a poem about
the past;
this is a poem about
the improbable,
about elephants that
leave the sky
and dance
on surfboards.