Clouds

This day stray clouds,
Have flocked grey skies,
As friends of old,
Meet and sigh,
Past ages told.

Low soft rumbling,
Amongst green leaves,
The gentle blowing,
Of memory,s breeze.

Seems they're meant,
For all thoughts quiet,
My soul unbends,
It's restless height.

This world recedes.
What matters more,
Than rain that falls,
in drops of Gold?