United States
39° 45' 36.2556" N, 75° 32' 0.5748" W

You can’t catch a cloud, you can’t

restrain something not tangible.

It’s made of water,

But you can’t grasp a cloud;

it’s very real, but you can’t

hold a cloud in your hand.


Unknown to most,

they weigh a ton:

more than a million pounds.

They float, perfectly buoyant,

high above us, unaware of the

little people living below.


Clouds form different shapes,

like fingerprints, all unique

with a different story. 

There are three main types

all ranging in size, all as

captivating as the next.


Clouds see all, and sometimes,

they interfere by making it storm,

one little drop changing history.

They’re free, unable to be tied down,

going where the wind blows,

and they never go back.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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