When I look up and see the clouds above, I think that they are much like us below. There are some which are dark and grey, You run inside and wait for them to pass. There are the high and wispy cirrus clouds. They drift slowly, feathers of the heavens And you would almost like to take one down But when you reach to grab them you cannot, For they are far too delicate to grasp. There are the clouds which strong winds tear apart And spread across the dome of heav'n above. Some clouds move like they hagve someplace to be, Not stopping to be viewed by those below. The ones that I love most are cotton clouds. Floating as though they have ne'er a worry I'd want myself to be like one of them. From my high perch I'd look upon the earth And watch the little ants working below Perfectly calm and peaceful in teh sky And no one would blame me for laziness Or say that I was wasting precious time To be a cloud, what a delightful way To add upon the beauty of the earth.
Reason for writing:
Robert Frost is by far my favorite poet. I find that most
of my poems are somewhat like his in their approach.
Please Comment, I'm just 17 and beginning at this stuff!
JO
Birth sign: Taurus
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