Clouds?

Magic carpets of the sky, changing art on the fly.

Scribbled imagination pods, doodles of the mighty gods.

Suspended dreams, cotton balls in floating streams.

Illusive wings of silk and lace, or perchance a mirrored face.

Fantasy within reality found, imaginations hunting ground.

Mystic transformations fleeting, enchanted visions forever retreating.

Unknown reasons why, hovering visions thus occupy.

Blindness to the symphony, maturities greatest tragedy.

© Wayne Paton. 2007.