Clouds Poem by Paul Butters
Clouds
The clouds play out their dramas,
As they scurry across the sky.
All shapes and sizes,
Even faces,
In my mind's eye.
They hug the hills with mist sometimes,
Or blend into golden, blood-red, blue tinged
Sunsets.
Cloud castles,
Ocean liners on a pure glass sea.
An endless variety of forms,
From dull featureless grey
To swirling poetry.
Different every day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 12:22:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
