Clouds Poem by S.C. Ouel

The frosted, starlit clouds creep by
Across the moonless, inky sky.
The wind's captives the clouds march on
Shoved rudely forward till the dawn.
With heavy shackles they lightly lay
Across their cell, turn sickly gray.
The wind tortures them with such cruelty,
Lacking all justice or sympathy.
Soon, the clouds can take the pain no more
Crying with anguish, they start to pour.
The rain pelts down, so saddening,
But the thunder is more maddening,
The crashing screams of tortured cloud
The lightning whips are cracking loud
Then the sound stops, replaced with the quiet
Of the clouds' death, and now it is night.