Lofty, billowy clouds
Wander across the vast blue sky
Aimlessly drifting, for this is their job.
To float forward and back, down and up
Surveying the world below in splendid indifference.
Frequently they're content within this niche,
Simply floating by with a creamy white expression
Plastered about their vast expanse
Of a luxuriously, ever changing face.
Haphazardly, they feel the world below
Deserves a much needed cleansing.
How ever we might protest it is not our say.
We have no input in the matter
for we cannot stop the clouds.
Try though we might they are forever above our grasp
Never to be captured, conjured, or held.
Each one different from the next
Assuming the shape of whatever it desires to be,
Like a chameleon blending into the background,
becoming as it wants to be seen.
Collectively they pay us little mind
As we rarely give them much attention either.
For they are only ivory frosted scenery,
A negligible background, detached from
Our busy important daily life.
Oh but how lovely it would be
To waft through the sky as the puffy white cloud.
Cohesively separate, as I overshadow
Chaos of the mundane world below
Alive, with but one job:
Sliding about freely.
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