He Could Have

He Could Have

Each time I’ve gone for a hike in the clouds
I’ve made my own way through rich loamy white.
Once my boot sank deep and cried I aloud,
“Don’t rain me down! I would die from this height!”
To my surprise a cloud voice then replied,
“You have no wings, no wand here to waft you,
How came you here with no caution applied?
An untimely end to me seems your due–
Found dead in a ditch, man fell from great height.
No one knows why or how he got up, but
He could have at least brought with him a kite,
Or followed trails that the Cloud Rangers cut.
His mother will cry, his wife be bereft;
For this foolish man, two children he left.”

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You can listen to me read it here https://soundcloud.com/benwhitepoetry/he-could-have