Clouds
The sky emits a shroud of white
That deftly coats the ground
As if by magic, nature paints
And never makes a sound
No sound comes forth from frozen ground
Nor ice cold gentle breeze
A searching eye confirms the fact
There's no one here but me
I watch these clouds so grey and full
Float through that leaden sky
Who plots their course where 'ere they go
I've often wondered why
They float throughout that limitless sky
Throughout the day or night
Meandering both hither and yon
Erratic in their flight
They race, they dance, they swoop oh so high
Like a marionette way up in the sky
I wish that I could pull those strings
To make those clouds do different things
Like making them look like a funny face
Or a doily made of intricate lace
I'd keep them afloat high in the sky
To continue to appease humanity's eyes
Copyright © George D. Miller | Year Posted 2019
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