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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=581211" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Underneath The Clouds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=581211" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Broken adventures moving against the<br>Stream: <br>This is my family, <br>And these are the few words I know- <br>And none of it belongs here: <br>These yards and houses do not belong, <br>Nor the airplanes leaping over them, <br>Nor the girls here<br>Who are shortly to be women: women, <br>Long-legged, <br>Bronzed women of a special cast-<br>They who will know their families like fishing<br>Leaping<br>Fast- fast: <br>Women of the year: women of a single snowflake<br>Evaporating underneath a single sun: <br>My words are just for her, <br>Women- my words are meant to be the flower<br>That signifies the metamorphosis of<br>Everything, <br>And casts its perfumes into the aqueducts of<br>The beating heart of her truancies, <br>While she goes out all night long-<br>This is the staple of my belonging handed out readily<br>Upon the highway-<br>A broadside for the busy avenues all headed to<br>See her being, <br>As she goes back to school again, as the airplanes<br>Fall asleep underneath the clouds.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>

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