Clouds Are Full Of Teardrops Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Clouds are full of teardrops,
Like mountains are full of ice tops;
Each moment dwells shortly,
Though it stays longer inside of me.

Yesterday is of memory,
That flies away and becomes free;
Drifting by, one by one,
All my days of youth and fun.

I'll one day return to earth,
And my creator who gave me birth;
Until then I'll carry my life on,
In the words I have, and song.

Clouds are full of teardrops,
What we sow will be our crops;
Everything what we are worth,
All our hope and all our mirth.

Streets we'll walk are futures still,
We can't see clearly over the hill;
What we have done right or wrong,
We shall carry with us along.