Clouds of every shape, as I settle on the ground,

There are so many pictures that will always be found.

A swan, graceful in its flight,

Donald duck, his beak is such a sight.

Tigger, who can leap with a single try,

A girl, with her sled, down a mountain she will fly.

If I close my eyes, the clouds shift shapes,

There is so much I can see,

On a lazy, Monday afternoon,

My face is full of glee.

Published by writerravenclaw

I am a fifty something mother of two grown up children, and one beautiful grandchild. I have been married for nearly thirty-four years. My first book was published ten years ago. I wrote my book Sticks and Stones because of my experience of being bullied at school.

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