The clouds roll and billow as they
sail their way across the sky.
Their cotton wool expanses flood and fall;
disperse and grow before my eyes.
The flowers bud and bloom and
regenerate their rainbow shades for all
who missed the première.
The seasons pass in the blink of an eye
and so the years do roll on by.
Children grow and ripen, bearing their own
fruit, then wizening themselves and fall
like all before.
The clouds continue to roll and from their
dispassionate view witness kingdoms' rise and fall
to dust whereby the flowers stake their claim
once more.
And so the dynasty of man runs by
and still the clouds roll past the sky.