Clouds

• Ava Rundle, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2020

White, fluffy clouds.
Like enormous giants that wander the sky, slowly trudging through the bright blue ocean up above.
Some are small, some are big and they each show a different image.
None are the same, yet they still move together.
With such beauty and grace, one would wonder the touch.
How fragile they are, yet they’re the only ones that are relied on to cover the radiant heat of the Sun.
I don’t think that’s right.

Sometimes, clouds turn grey when things start to build up and their thoughts become heavy.
They shed their tears onto land and thunder their frustrations.
Their only purpose to help others needs, because without purpose, they slowly fade away.
People say it’s natural, they should just ignore it and move on with their day, so the cloud carries on with a big rainbow.
I don’t think that’s right.

How many look up at the clouds and ask why?
Do they look up and ask the clouds if they feel alone in this vast blue sea?
Or are they just another pretty face for people to look at?
I wouldn’t know… I am just a cloud.