Clouds

Gazing at the clouds, I find myself wondering what it would be like to drift over the earth. Flat, hanging, sailing. Taking shape of anything I dare to be. I would morph into a flower perhaps, or stay put in a blob. I could choose to be round and puffy, or dark, full of ache. Blanketing the earth I would cleanse it in my tears. Perhaps I would send thunder and lightening, when screaming seems like to little. Sunlight passing through me, as I roll over open fields. Tumbling, spinning, nothing can stop me. There aren't any rocks in the sky. I'm to thin to break. Seeing anything I wanted to see, being anything I wanted to be. So relaxed and out there, for away from the ugly, upset world. The earth under by figure, colors swirling, never missing a moment of breath-taking views, or eye-popping wonders. Feeling the wind breeze through me, but never catching the blow. No one to tell me what to do, no way to do anything wrong. Providing happiness and smiles for those children on field, guessing what shape I'll take next. Then drifting away, leaving them hanging just like my cloud in the sky.