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?