It's a beautiful morning in the mountains
Never to be seen in the cities.
I am standing alone on a "view point"
Simply looking at the view.
The herd of the white clouds
Parading across the mountains,
The bigger clouds pushing the smaller
And keeping the parade going.
It is said that the wind moves
The clouds, but not today,
They are parading for me,
So I say they move by own.
The parade is amazing,
Wonderful formations by the clouds.
But something interesting
Caught my attention.
There he is, the young cloud
Slowly drifting away from the parade.
Getting lower and lower,
Moving slower and slower,
Smart enough to fool others,
Even the bigger clouds.
He seems to have lost interest
In parading for others,
Drifting away to find solitude,
May be on the ground.
Where no other cloud can find him,
At least not the ones busy in parade.
I think he is looking at me,
The same way I am looking at him.
Is he feeling the same thing,
That I am feeling for him.
There seems to be connection,
Fairly strong for a first time look.
The other clouds have gone by,
The parade has ended.
He is now alone in the mountains,
More closer to the ground.
I hope he reach there on time
And find what he is looking for.
I hope he finds solitude,
Otherwise, he will be the lonely cloud.