Clouds and Fluff

Prompt 2 of our Piccadilly "Write the Poem" challenge: Clouds

There's something ethereal about clouds.

White fluff 

that circles the sky.

It's mood changes so quickly sometimes.

Yet, 

whether it be a time of madness, 

or calm, 

clouds are beautiful

either way. 

As a child,

I always wanted to feel a cloud. 

I imagined

floating with them,

and peering at the tiny world below. 

When I learned what fog was 

-sunken clouds drifting upon earth-

I think a sadness struck;

as, like me, 

there are days where my feet

can barely lift up off the ground. 

It's dew was like a sadness;

melancholic, 

unenergetic. 

But, 

with a new day 

it rose again as a cloud,

and so too,

must I rise.

I reach to be a cloud.