The History of Clouds
When my lecture on the history of clouds was interrupted
by the laughter of children (the possibility
of joy!) I realized the truth
might frighten you.
I come from a dark house
and the storm of dark weather.
The power has been out for years.
Instead of cheerful birds singing from every corner,
I see a long row of black shapes on the roof.
I hear the alien gargle of ravens.
You, however, you have it all:
rich as sunshine, pictures of grandchildren,
a sleek convertible to come and go.
The biography of my sadness
is merely sad—the normal human despair
I feel, separated from God
as you float by
on your merry boat
as if life is but a dream—
I have the crocodile, the scream!
Why can’t my life be perfect like yours?
Tom Snyder: Collected Poems 