Clouds up high in the skies
floating, flying far above us,
like stars for our watching eyes
to dissect and to discuss.

Whether puffy or wispy,
whether eggwhite or gloom-grey,
whether full or misty,
clouds always seem to stay.

Even with a clear sky blue,
there can be found a cloud.
If not one, then maybe two,
floating on high so proud.

What is up there so high,
waiting or perhaps watching
we humans do they spy?
What could be stalking?

Is there a man of the stars,
resting on his fluffy pillow,
a man who came from Mars,
with a beard of smoke-billow?

Or perhaps a race of ancients,
from a long-forgotten age,
who possess great patience,
waiting for a war to wage?

Or maybe so far beyond,
there rests a city of gold,
that wonders where we've gone
and awaits our return foretold.

These thoughts of mine,
do keep my mind thinking
as I enjoy the sun's shine.
and the clouds, like ships sinking.