Painted horizons

Clouds form a pattern in the sky,

In hues of orange, drifting high.

They move along without a sound,

Like quiet guests that float around.

They never leave, they never stray,

But hide when sunlight floods the day.

At dusk and dawn, they tint the light,

Painting skies in soft twilight.

Like an artist's brush at play,

They shift and change throughout the day.

Minutes turn to hours fast,

Yet every moment seems to last.

Nature’s beauty, calm and deep,

Lulls the restless soul to sleep.

The closer we are, the more we see

How nature sets our spirits free.

Freedom... what a lovely word,

Not always shouted, often heard

In gentle winds and skies above,

In little things, like clouds we love.

Opinions shift, and feelings stray,

But clouds remain, they find their way

In shapes unknown, in forms brand new,

On a journey meant for me and you.

                                              _ Beera