White Cloud, Black Cloud

I watched a lovely cloud
Drifting merrily on,
Small, cotton white was he
As though he was just born.

Then, of all the horrors,
A big black cloud appeared,
This ugly ate my friend
Which promptly disappeared!

Poor Whitey was now gone,
Blacky finished my friend,
Whom I knew just did not
Deserve that brutal end.

So why must beauty end?
Why cannot it endure?
Must beauty always fade,
Even when it's pure?