Clouds

You're never quite moving, yet never quite still. Searching for something past your vast expanse at a state of in-between.

It must be glorious to be that flexible, swaying the direction anything moves you in.

Sometimes i sit and wonder when exactly you decide to storm, why you choose moments to be darker than the blackest black, or lighter than a feather. It still puzzles me at times.

 And how you stay afloat, above the millions of people, wondering just exactly what

it would be like to lay in your voluminous blanket.

Reviews

[Acer]

Quite nice, words are nice.