A child's job
is to dream;
dreams would condense
into
clouds of cotton candy.

Clouds
shelters them
from
watchful sun's erratic behaviour;
if sun e'er too angry
melted clouds
can be plucked
for reminiscence.
If e'er a mass too heavy,
will pour sugary rains
of passion.

Winds have no power
to emancipate
clouds
from sheltering
the innocence of a child.