Beneath the boundless azure dome,
Where whispers of the sky do roam,
The clouds, like dreams, begin to weave,
Tales of wonder, of reprieve.

In gentle wisps they softly glide,
Across the heavens, far and wide,
With every shape and shifting form,
They cradle storms and sunlight warm.

As twilight falls, they softly glow,
In hues of rose and indigo,
A canvas vast, a timeless art,
They speak the language of the heart.

So gaze upon the sky’s embrace,
Where clouds in silent grace do race,
And find within their fleeting dance,
A moment’s peace, a second chance.