Up above, the clouds are whispers.
"Look, a bunny!" someone shouts.
But, maybe it's a hat, or a home for dreams.
The wind tells stories, soft like a lullaby.
Beneath the clouds, there are stories untold.
Grass blades wave, secrets shared in a gentle dance.
If you listen, you might hear a giggle,
or a wish carried away into the blue.
Imagine, if you dare, clouds that never end.
Floating forever, a kingdom of cotton.
Would they remember us, the tiny specks on ground?
Or forget our whispers, lost in the breeze?