Clouds
High above, in the endless sky,
The clouds float by, way up high.
They come in shapes both big and small,
And dance around like cotton balls.
Sometimes they're white, like fresh-spun cream,
Other times, they're grey and mean.
But no matter what their hue may be,
The clouds are a wondrous sight to see.
They travel far, across the land,
And bring with them rain, like a gentle hand.
They shade the sun, with their fluffy form,
And bring relief on days that are warm.
The clouds are a canvas, forever changing,
A masterpiece in the sky, always arranging.
They move and shift, in the breeze so light,
A symphony of nature, a true delight.
So next time you look up at the sky,
And see the clouds, drifting by,
Take a moment to appreciate,
The beauty of their gentle grace.
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