Clouds
Clouds: shapeless formless beings
Able to fly without the help of wings
Puffy white against the coral blue sky
Dazzlingly splendid to my eyes
Dancing to the violent high winds
Shaping into a dozen things
One moment this and another moment that
A treasure chest that none has had
Gliding above the tallest of trees
Whispering of a coming breeze
Dark black in an approaching storm
And bright red with the rising dawn
Clouds, clouds, the stuff of dreams
Softly changing with time’s stream
Lost beyond the mountains high
Full of quiet unchanging might
Copyright © 2012 by May Kwek
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