CLOUDS

Clouds are the strangest things
They float across the sky,
Do you know how they got that way?
Well, neither do I.

They make the weirdest shapes
As they float to and fro,
How they hang there
I will never really know.

They're fluffy like marshmallows
All billowy and white,
Some are dark and ominous
On a story night.

They serve whatever purpose
They were meant to do
And are the home
For little angles, too.

Every time I see one
On a cloudy day,
I wonder in awe
As it floats away.