If a cloud and a tree
Could speak like you and me
They'd be friends
They'd be pals
They'd be buds
But the tree would soon know
The cloud would only come and go
Never staying in one place;
Always running in his race.
Occasionally the cloud would cry
But he would never say goodbye.
For he'd always come back
Because if he didn't,
A friend he would lack
And he knew he'd never want to live like that.
AGD
YOU ARE READING
Painting With Words
PoetryThese are subtle glimpses I get from the lives of the people around me, written as poems. Some refer to me; most don't. Enjoy.
