DM (21/04/88 / Dublin)

Fluffy Friends

The clouds they sweep across the sky
The wind their pilot
No time for goodbye.


Patchy holes I see right through
Like a spying game
I see some blue.


Shapes they form then fade away
What could that be
I play all day.


The clouds they’re sad
They start to cry
I close my window and say goodbye.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

Very colorful and highly lyrical. Enjoy the ending. Creative thinking.