Where misty clouds in heavens softly drift,

And poets' minds with fancies take their flight,

A tapestry of words, a precious gift,

That paints the sky with ever-changing light.

Through ages past, their feelings find release,

In verses spun, where time and beauty blend,

A soaring thought, a soul that knows no peace,

A vision vast, that knows no earthly end.

If clouds could speak, what tales they would unfold,

Of ancient hearts, and dreams that still remain,

A bridge of words, in stories to be told,

Where souls connect, through sunshine and through rain.

So let us read, and let our spirits fly,

Where poets' dreams, like clouds, adorn the sky.