Author Jonathan Chaves Grasping my flying cane, several feet of wood, in an instant I am among the white clouds. But my drunken eyes are hazy—I don't know where I am, I think I'm going down the mountain when I'm really going up! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments