From Amy Whitewick

From Amy Whitewick

Wiltshire, U.K.

The Cloud

Oh, fluffy cloud,

So flat, so small,

Surrounded by

An azure pool.

Suddenly you grow bigger,

Making me shout ,

Look out,

There’s rain about.

Heavier you grow,

Dark as dusk,

Stretching across,

Like a mammoth tusk.

Slowly you fall to ground,

Drip, drip, drip,

Making a splattering sound.

And there you lay,

The sad remains,

Teardrops cry,

Down our window panes.

The sun comes out,

And you are not there,

We step outside,

To look up and stare.

There you are again,

Forming high above,

Floating gently,

like a crystal dove.

Clouds are with us,

Wherever we go,

You might not see them,

But you’ll always know,

Where there’s water,

There’s always a cloud,

It’s not just blue sky,

In which they’re allowed.

© Amy Whitewick 2009.

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