In the vast canvas of the sky,
The clouds are brushstrokes that capture my eye.
They dance and float, ever-changing and free,
A symphony of shapes, for all to see.

A fluffy blanket, soft and pure,
Their gentle demeanor, so demure.
They greet the sun with a radiant glow,
Or shield us from rain, with a somber know.

Wisps of cotton, gently cascading,
Painting stories, with colors...