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Clouds

Writer's picture: Leah Scott-KirbyLeah Scott-Kirby

I think I’d be a fine cloud.

I’d be a real fluffy one, with curling tips, swimming softly through turquoise skies.

I’d be a tenderhearted one, offering hand-whipped marshmallow puff pillows as a place for seagulls to nap.

I’d be the type of cloud renaissance artists paint, while licking frosting from their fingertips.

When other clouds felt unsure of themselves, I’d be the one to open their eyes to their true morphing-potential.

And when I saw a child far below, I’d be the cloud who buckles and contorts into a giraffe and then explodes into an elephant.


I think I'd be a real fine cloud.



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