Drifting high up in the sky
Watching clouds pass slowly by
Wanting to be on top of clouds above
And find my happiness, peace and love.
Cloud nine it’s called; I think it’s so
Where those that search will surely go
I too search hoping cloud nine will elate
And yet instead find I’m on cloud eight.
Not quite cloud nine, one step below
How to reach cloud nine I do not know
It seems that others had found their way
Yet how to get there they will not say.
It looks real nice, it seems so grand
I reach out forward stretch my hand
And try to grab a piece of cloud
It’s almost if I’m not allowed.
Cloud nine it seems as I’ve observed
Is more a place that is reserved
Only a select can get there no fee
I guess cloud eight is where I’m meant to be.
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Comments about this poem (Cloud Eight by Genevieve Pilat )
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