White Clouds
White Clouds
White clouds in the wind run down the blue sky
Where they fly no one knows, or why
Here and gone without a whisper of sound
Indifferent to the forces around them
Except, in their own quiet way, to make wind visible
White Clouds
White clouds in the wind run down the blue sky
Where they fly no one knows, or why
Here and gone without a whisper of sound
Indifferent to the forces around them
Except, in their own quiet way, to make wind visible
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