The Nephophile

The Nephophile

I glance at the azure sky,
wonderstruck by the fluffy,
white, cottony clouds.

Shapeshifting and drifting,
like undisputed monarchs
of the kingdom of heaven.

Pristine, pure, and luminous,
they awaken the hidden bard,
in many a guarded being.

As I gawk at their glossy sheen, 

they suddenly change to coal-black,
shedding copious salt-less tears.

After the mighty storm abates,

While searching for clouds milky-white,
I notice a silver lining.

Thank you clouds for teaching me,

that after every tempest,
a glimmer of hope appears.

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