Fluffy and puffy,
White and grey,
Floating along,
Night and day.

Where do they go
When the sky is clear?
Not a cloud to be seen,
They just disapear.

They must be hiding,
Where we can't see.
Waiting to burst forth,
Clouds like to be free.

A puff of winds blows,
A small cloud floats by.
Behind it more gather,
And cover the sky.

An opening appears,
An angel steps through.
She tells them she loves them,
That's her joy too.
ISMN 979-0-9001418-3-5
Angel of the Clouds
Original Music  Art  Poetry
Radiant Artistry
by Sharone
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